Review of "The Myth of An Afterlife", edited by Keith Augustine

Augustine, Keith (Ed.). The Myth of an Afterlife. Rowand and Littlefield. 2015.

            In part thanks to the likes of Dawkins, Hitchens and Harris, over the last few years, there has been a lot of discussion about whether or not God exists. But, I have the hunch that, what people really care about, is not whether there is an invisible big guy up in the sky, but rather, whether they will keep on living after their deaths. I would think that, for most people in our times, Buddhist belief (afterlife without God) is more appealing than Sadducee (or, for that matter, most Jewish) belief (God without the afterlife).

 

            Unfortunely, in the public sphere, there has not been a great deal of rational discussion about the afterlife. It’s mostly about NDE testimonies and debunking, or the 23 minutes in Hell, but not about well-thought arguments. This volume, edited by Keith Augustine, can serve as a definite guide to the arguments and counterarguments regarding the afterlife, although, of course, written from a skeptic perspective. This is a massive book (30 long chapters), but Augustine does a fine job of outlining the arguments and the plan in the Introduction. The reader is advised to read the Introduction, and then, if any argument catches his/her special interest, he/she can further fill the details by reading particular chapters. In what follows; I will address mostly Augustine’s Introduction, assuming his text is representative of the rest of the book; I admit I have not read the whole book.

Augustine frequently argues that the case for the afterlife must be made on a probabilistic basis. Thus, even if survivalists (those who believe we survive death) may come around some arguments, and claim that it is at least possible to survive, that will not suffice. The evidence against the afterlife is massive, and that should tip the balance definitely. I agree, but as I understand it, many of the survivalists only attempt to defend themselves against conceptual problems. Authors such as Peter Van Inwagen do not claim to prove that God switches bodies upon death (in order to preserve the original body for the end-times), but rather, that the doctrine of resurrection has a way of coming around the conceptual problems that are usually labeled against it.

            Augustine likewise has little patience for arguments of the type “God can do it”, or “it’s just a miracle”. That is not a rational explanation of how things happen. Again, I agree. But, one could make an indirect argument in favor of the afterlife. If God exists, He would not allow his creatures to perish, inasmuch He is omnipotent and omnibenevolent. So, the prospect for an afterlife may hinge upon God’s existence. Proof of God may be extended as proof of the afterlife. I doubt the existence of God, but it seems to me this is an important point to address in a discussion about the afterlife. However, none of the chapters in this book discuss the existence of God. This is understandable (God is not the subject matter of this volume), but I insist, the argument could be made that, by proving God’s existence, one proves the afterlife.

             An important part of the book is concerned with dualism: the idea that we are made up of a body and a soul. Augustine and the authors point out the typical objections: there is an obvious connection between mental states and brain states; how can a bodiless soul perceive and communicate?; how does the soul interact with the body?; how is the law of conservation of energy not broken?; etc. I agree these are insurmountable difficulties, but it must be acknowledged that dualists have arguments of their own, and they are not fully addressed in this book. Dualists may raise questions such as: What selective advantage could conscience offer in evolution?; if you can imagine a disembodied soul (as Descartes did), doesn’t that prove that body and soul are not identical?

            I would have welcomed a consideration of Richard Swinburne’s thought experiment to prove the existence of the soul. Person A’s brain is split in two, resulting in two persons, B and C. Which one is identical the original person? Swinburne argues we cannot know who is identical to A, but we can be sure one of them is. This, Swinburne claims, is evidence of the existence of the soul, for, unlike the brain, the soul is indivisible. I am not convinced at all, but some refutation would be most welcome.  

            Augustine also presents objections against a second model of the afterlife: astral body survival. Unlike the soul, the astral body is theoretically visible, yet, where is it? How much does it weigh?, and one of my favorite objections: when ghosts wear clothes, are those clothes astral, too? Augustine and his peers do a fine job of warning that, the popular Hollywoodesque conception of the afterlife, is much closer to astral bodies than to souls.

            Augustine then tackles the resurrection model. Again, he very aptly presents the usual objections: how can God reassemble the same bodies of all people who ever lived, if most likely, we share at least some atoms with someone else? God could make a replica, but then, would it be the same person as someone who previously lived? If God can make on replica, couldn’t He make more than one? In that case, wouldn’t this prove that none of those replicas are in fact identical to the original one? In this regard, I have a minor complaint. None of the authors address Nozick’s closest-continuer theory. According to this theory, if God makes more than one replica of the original body, then, in effect, none would be identical to the original person; but if God makes only one replica, in the absence of competitors, that sole replica would in fact be identical to the original one. I find this a very counter intuitive theory, but Nozick is a big name in philosophy, and his views could have been addressed.

            Augustine accepts that God could make a replica that is psychologically continuous to the original person. Derek Parfitt famously argued that, for him that would be good enough to be content in the afterlife. Augustine, however, begs to differ. According to him, what matters is survival, not just psychological continuity. My claim is that this is a very complex issue. Apparently, yes, Augustine is right, and what matters is survival, not just psychological continuity. But, Parfitt has some very disturbing thought experiments that would make us think that, even in this terrestrial life, survival is not guaranteed. In Parfitt’s view, we cannot be assured that we are even the same person that ate breakfast two days ago. Thus, if we are apparently able to cope with the fact that we may not be the same person we thought we were, it should not be much of a problem to be in heaven with psychological continuity regarding our present life, but unsure about whether or not we are actually the same person.

            Another section of the book is dedicated to conceptual problems of Heaven and Hell. Augustine complains about the injustice of these doctrines. Why would someone receive eternal bliss for temporal virtues, or eternal punishment for temporal sin? I agree this applies to Hell (why an eternal punishment for a finite sin?), but where is the harm in receiving extra-bliss? One may object to extra-punishment, but I am not sure the same could be said of extra-bliss. As for infinite punishment, there is a typical scholastic response that Augustine does not address (but, maybe some of the authors do address it; again, I admit I have not read the 700 pages of this book): inasmuch as the offended party is infinite (God), justice requires the punishment to be infinite as well.

Furthermore, some Christian apologists claim that Hell is not really a punishment, but rather, an affirmation of choice: the person who goes to Hell has decided to move away from God, by living in sin, and God satisfies that desire. I find this argument deeply flawed, but it could have been addressed in the book, given the fact that apologists such as C.S. Lewis made it very popular.

            Augustine also points out the problem of moral luck: some people, under different circumstances, would have behaved differently, so where is the justice in punishment? I agree this is a major problem, but this also applies to terrestrial punishment: why should we punish a drunk driver who killed three kids, but not a drunk driver who, out of sheer luck, did not kill anyone? Nevertheless, we still punish the actual deeds.

            Augustine also wonders what good is hellish punishment, if there is no second chance? What’s the purpose of Hell, if no one is going to learn any lesson from it? If one accepts solely a consequentialist account of ethics, then yes, Hell is unjust on these grounds. But, if one accepts a deontological account of ethics, then punishment is intrinsically good, regardless of its consequences. And, it seems to me that, if God exists and He is just (again, a big “if”), then His justice would require punishment of bad deeds. Augustine assumes ethical consequentalism, but this may be disputed among many ethicists.

             There are other problems addressed by the authors. How can people be happy in Heaven, if some of their relatives are in Hell? Most apologists I have read, just bite the bullet, and assume that, being next to God somehow drives that unhappiness away. There is yet another objection raised by Augustine: if God is omniscient and knew that people would sin and go to Hell, why did He create us in the first place? That is a tough one, and I don’t think any theologian has offered a good response.

            The doctrines of karma and reincarnation are problematic as well, and Augustine aptly raises objections. How can we be justly punished for deeds committed in previous life that we do not remember? What good is it to learn from punishment, if we will not remember the lesson in the next life? Furthermore, if the world is just in virtue of karma, helping someone is an act of injustice, for we would be altering the karmic justice. In fact, if whatever happens, is just, then any psychopath can be an executor of cosmic justice.

            The final part of the book is devoted to alleged evidence for survival. Apparitions of the dead, Augustine believes, are most likely hallucinations, and in some cases, collective hallucinations driven by social contagion. I would advice more caution on this issue. It is still a matter of dispute among psychologists, whether or not collective hallucinations do in fact occur. Be that as it may, Augustine claims that most apparitions are conditioned by expectations. This is certainly true, but there might be some exceptions. Christian apologists, for example, claim that Jesus’ apparitions to the disciples (in one occasion, at least to 500 at the same time, according to I Corinthians) were not expected, as 1^st Century Jews expected resurrection only during the endtimes.

I am not at all persuaded by these apologetic arguments, but I think the book should have included some consideration of Christian apologists who claim to prove historically that Jesus rose from the dead. For, here, they could argue as with the existence of God: they could indirectly prove the survival hypothesis, by proving the resurrection of Jesus. If it is proven that Jesus resurrected, then there is hope.

Out of body experiences and Near Death experiences are given their due in this volume. And, as one may expect, the authors’ assessment is not positive. There is a high degree of cultural arbitrariness in these experiences. Reincarnation cases do not hold water, either. Cases of children who allegedly “remember” past lives, are either equivocal, or just plain fraudulent. Parents may nourish in their kids an identity with deceased relatives, or information between the deceased person’s family and the child’s family may be leaked to the child himself. Researchers have been known to use leading questions (in order to confirm their biases), or the children may just having fantasies akin to “invisible friend” role-play of Western societies.

Likewise, the world of mediumship has been notoriously fraudulent, and this is aptly addressed by Augustine and his peers. Mediums have many tricks to give the impression that they know something they could not have known by natural means. However, there is a very strange case in the history of mediumship: the so-called “Palm Sunday” correspondence in the 19^th Century. Allegedly, a spirit communicated with mediums from many countries without each other knowing about it, using encrypted and complex references to Classical literature. This case has never been satisfactorily debunked, but as Augustine well argues, the case for the afterlife must be built on a probabilistic basis, and a single odd phenomenon is surely not enough against the great of evidence counter to the survival hypothesis.

 At any rate, Augustine reminds us that there are plausible ways of testing whether or not there is an afterlife. In fact, these tests have been done, and not a single case has offered us confirmatory evidence. Furthermore, it is not altogether clear that a medium’s success in conveying information he/she could not have known through normal means, is evidence of an afterlife. There is the possibility that the medium has telepathic abilities, and he/she received that information, not from a deceased person, but rather, telepathically from other living persons. Needless to say, paranormal phenomena present problems of their own.

The present volume, then, is a great resource for anyone interested in one of the greatest question humanity has ever asked: is death truly the end? Its chapters make a convincing case against the survival hypothesis. Yet, despite the overwhelming evidence against it, people still cling to afterlife beliefs. Why? In the Foreword to this book, Steve Steward-Williams offers some hypotheses: maybe we are prey to wishful thinking: most of us want to keep on living; maybe these ideas are good for society as social glue and social control; maybe we are genetically hardwired to believe these things.

Whatever the right hypothesis may be, it is a fact that there is great uneasiness about death. Some anthropologists claim this is just a Western concern (for some strange reason, they always point out Mexico as a death-friendly country), but I doubt it. The fear of death is universal. And, despite being a well-researched and massive book, there is a sense of incompleteness in this volume: none of the authors address the issue of how to live with the knowledge that we will not survive; none addressed the question, what is the meaning of life without an afterlife?; or, why should I be moral if there is no post-mortem reward?

It will surely be argued that this is a book about facts, not about existentialist philosophy. But, religious beliefs can be very pragmatist. And, the common person may assume Miguel de Unamuno’s approach: reason may tell us there is no afterlife, but desperation is avoided only by assuming so. Thus, before confronting us with a mountain of evidence against the afterlife, I would have welcomed a chapter assuring the reader that life does have meaning without an afterlife. Were that chapter included, however, I personally estimate it would have been one of the most difficult to write; personally, I sometimes struggle to find meaning in a Godless world.  

Review of "Beyond Black", by Ellis Cashmore

            CASHMORE, Ellis. Beyond Black. Bloomsbury Academic. 2012.

            Only a few decades ago, being black in America seemed to be as much a curse as being colored in South Africa, or a dalit in India. Ever since the Civil Rights movement, things have changed. But, apparently, these changes have been really huge. Back in the 1920s, no white person in his right mind would have had any fantasies about being black (maybe those fantasies would be about having sex with blacks, but that is a different matter); after all, who would want to be in danger of being lynched, who would want to be the embodiment of ugliness?

Today, white kids are fascinated with African American culture. White Ali G (not a real character, but the satire nails it) is desperate to be black. But, of course, it’s all about sports and entertainment. Ali G does not have the slightest interest in Frederick Douglass or even Martin Luther King. His fascination is with Snoop Dogg, Beyonce, Michael Jordan, and so on. As a teenager, I went through something similar: to me, everything about black consumer culture was cool, whereas white America was boring. And, of course, I wasn’t alone in this: most of my peers were also fascinated by the ghetto, and we all had some desire to be black (very much as Ali G).

 Now, as a man in my thirties, I don’t have much interest in African American culture, and I have come to discover that neither do my old High School buddies. This, it seems to me, is revealing: black America is appealing to teenagers, but not to adults. Why? In part, because blacks have achieved power in those things that are banal and attractive to teenagers (sports and entertainment), but have not achieved prominence in things that are more crucial (politics, finance, science, politics, etc.), and that are usually more attractive to adults (although it could be argued, as Neil Postman once did, that American adults are becoming increasingly infantilized).

Ellis Cashmore’s book analyzes the shift of blacks’ positions in American culture. His main thesis is this: white America has allowed blacks to hold some symbolic power in sports and entertainment, but this actually a kind of opium (my words, not Cashmore’s, I can’t help using the Marxist terminology) to hold them down. Ever since the 19^th Century, whites have been fascinated with blacks’ everyday life, but want to watch only at a distance. This continues to go on today: white suburban kids delight themselves with hip-hop songs about the ghetto, but are not in the least concerned about doing something to improve blacks’ conditions. Michael Jordan becomes an icon of consumer culture, but only as long as he just jumps and does not say anything incendiary about slavery and racism; white kids are fascinated by African American slam dunks, but not by Richard Wright’s novel denouncing racism (this last example is mine, not Cashmore’s).

If there was ever an original counter-cultural movement in hip-hop, it was long ago swallowed by corporations. Rap music is the new minstrel show, in which artists amuse white audiences forming an alliance with white capitalists. Beyonce may earn some of the shares, but the real beneficiaries are white CEOs who further enrich themselves by making blacks degrade themselves, and amuse white audiences in a superficial contact with African American life.

On the surface, Obama’s presidential election is a major change. This is no longer about sports and entertainment. But, Cashmore points out that, in fact, it may well be. Obama is a branded president; just another celebrity whose position may very well be along the lines of Denzel Washington. In the same way that Michael Jordan became a sales’ icon, Obama may well have been the perfect candidate for a country increasingly fascinated with black culture; but once again, this was possible only as long as the black candidate does not come over with rage over the wrongs of the past. Cashmore highlights Shelby Steele’s very interesting thesis, according to which, Obama was the perfect agent to drain white America’s guilt: there is a major desire to overcome the wrongs of the past, but only in a rather superficial way.

So, there it is. Apparently, history has come to an end in America (in a Fukuyaman sense): whites have made peace with blacks, and America is now a post-racial society. Not so, says Cashmore. Yes, blacks have achieved symbolic power in some spheres, but on the ground, life is as tough as ever for African Americans. There are significant statistical discrepancies between blacks and whites, when it comes to health, wealth, crime, etc. Racism is alive and well.

Overall, I agree with Cashmore’s analysis. But, I do wish to point out some disagreements. The book gives the impression that whites are mostly to blame (it does not say so explicitly, but I did get that sense). Sure, white capitalists have been perversely clever to recruit some blacks, turn them into celebrities, and attempt to give the impression that race is no longer an obstacle, and on top of that, make a huge profit by injecting consumerism into African Americans’ lives. But, I think black leadership is also to blame. The character with which I sympathize the most in this book is, Bill Cosby: the great comedian insisted that black failure may no longer be blamed all on racism. And as a defender of conservative values, he also denounced that consumerism and fascination with rap and basketball will not get African Americans far, either. What is truly needed is, as Cosby famously argued, a massive reform in African American culture: stronger parental responsibility, self-reliance, work ethic, valuing of education, and so on. Cosby was seen as a sellout for playing a successful doctor in his show, But, this is precisely the problem: black culture seems reluctant to accept positive role models, and seem much more content to continue defending O.J. Simpson. Black bookish kids are accused of “acting white”, and black leaders do not seem to care about it.

Cashmore points out the statistical discrepancies between blacks and whites when it comes to prison, health, wealth, and so on. I do not subscribe to the biological explanations of Hernstein and Murray in The Bell Curve for these discrepancies, but I do think that, to some degree, America is a meritocratic society, and in a sense, these discrepancies are not proof of racism. The fact that some ethnic group has some privileged place over another ethnic group is not, in itself, proof of discrimination. There are far more Brazilians than Sweden in high-level football leagues, but no one would say FIFA discriminates against Swedes; if fair competition got them there, there really is nothing to complain about.

Likewise, the fact that there is a larger proportion of blacks in jails, I am afraid, is not evidence that the penal system is intrinsically racist. Sure, as Cashmore points out, maybe the war on drugs targets especially blacks, and this increases their number in prisons. But blacks could very well be more prone to crime. Actually, I think this is the case, indeed; leaving anecdotal cases aside (such as the Rodney King affair), American cops do not strike me as particularly racist (Jared Taylor has offered compelling evidence that, in fact, there is very little racism in police departments).

Blacks’ inclination toward crime needn’t be due to biological reasons (lower IQ or higher testosterone, as racialist J.P. Rushton infamously argued). But, it could very well be due to cultural and historical reasons: blacks may feel historically cheated, and this alienation pushes them into crime. Yet, at the same time, black leadership has been too self-indulgent in victimized rhetoric, and has not motivated their followers to push forward. On this point, I fully sympathize with Dinesh D’Souza’s analysis in The End of Racism.

 The question is whether or not whites have achieved comfortable positions through fair competition. They obviously had an unfair head start over blacks, and affirmative action may have been necessary at first, and Cashmore seems to sympathize with the idea that, in order to overcome racism, affirmative action is most needed. But, I am very skeptical of affirmative action today. I have a great concern that, in its current state, affirmative action does not create a meritocratic society, but rather, destroys it. Surely, the debate over affirmative action requires more attention, and the jury is still out. But, in the meantime, it seems to me there are more urgent things to do. And, I would argue that those things have been aptly delineated by Bill Cosby: decrease fascination with consumer culture, tone down victim-playing, increase self-reliance, and stress education and familial responsibility.

Review of "Why Not Capitalism?", by Jason Brennan

                BRENAN, Jason. Why Not Capitalism? Routledge. 2014.

            This book is a reply to Gerald Cohen’s Why Not Socialism? I have not been able to read that book, but Brennan offers a brief summary, and I presume it is trustworthy. Basically, Cohen presents an idyllic fieldtrip where everyone shares resources, and nobody has more property than anybody else; in other words, a socialist fieldtrip. Cohen admits this dream may be unachievable for the time being, but his point is that it is the most desirable scenario. 

Brennan, instead, says that the true utopia is capitalist, not socialist. Utopia would be something akin to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse: everyone would have private property, there would be free cooperation, and everyone would trust everyone else. Once again, whether or not it is achievable is not the point. The point is, if we had a magic wand, should we choose the socialist or the capitalist utopia? Brennan chooses the latter.

            So do I. I suppose that, in Cohen’s fantasy football, no team would win the Superbowl; ala John Lennon, he would imagine no winners or losers, and actually, whoever tried to win, would be suppressed. Instead, I suppose that in Brennan’s fantasy football, some team would be a winner and the rest would be losers, although there would be plenty of respect and sportsmanship. Frankly, very few people enjoy draws in sports, and for very good reasons. This, it seems to me, is enough proof that the real utopia would be Brennan’s and not Cohen’s.

            There are plenty of problems in Cohen’s utopia, and Brennan aptly points them out. First, there is the problem of incentives: if everyone receives the same share of the pie, what keeps their motivation to work. And then, there is a more technical (but also more profound) problem: if commodities are not sold at their price based on supply and demand, how can the State aptly gather information to decide where to allocate resources?

Brennan continuously reminds us that his essay (very much as Cohen’s) is about a comparison of utopias, not of real regimes. This is not about whether Pinochet (a capitalist dictator) was worse than Castro (a communist dictator). It’s only about whether we would want to live in the socialist fieldtrip or in the capitalist Mickey Mouse land, regardless of whether or not human nature actually coheres with these fantasy places, and whether or not they are actually achievable.

And, precisely, by so reminding us, Brennan warns of a huge fallacy in Cohen’s reasoning: he wants to compare his socialist utopia with the capitalist real world. This is not fair. One must compare like with like. We should compare Miami to Havana, or the communist utopia with the capitalist utopia, not the communist utopia with Miami. I couldn’t agree more with Brennan on this point.

Furthermore, I frequently encounter yet another fallacy when discussing these issues: socialists will typically say that the Soviet Union was not really socialist, and we shouldn’t judge socialism by that monstrous regime. This is the old “No true Scotsman fallacy”. Apparently, for many of these socialists, anything short of immense happiness is not socialism. Well, if we are going to play by the rules of that game, then capitalists may well argue that Hong Kong or the US are not capitalist countries either, and anything short of immense happiness is not capitalism.

So far, so good. But then, when it comes to the real world, Brennan begins to draw a caricature of the virtues of capitalism vs. the vices of communism, to the point of appearing Manichean. According to his view, in countries such as Venezuela, people do not cooperate willingly, but only out of fear of being punished by the State. Well, I’m no fan of socialism, but as a Venezuelan, I must say this is obscenely wrong. Probably for biological reasons, human beings everywhere are prone to some degree of cooperation. I have had flat tires on Venezuelan roads, and I have been helped by plenty of people who have never done so out of fear, and have asked little in return (some have even rejected any compensation completely).

Brennan also claims that in real communism, greed, envy and depredation are the norm, whereas in capitalism such things are not frequent. I agree that, under Stalinism, bureaucrats were eager to seize peasants’ property through State depredation, and make themselves fat, all in the name of equality. But, I’m not so sure capitalism has been all that different (not so much in the name of equality, but surely in the name of liberty). After all, who made famous the “greed-is-good” slogan? Does the name Gordon Gekko ring a bell? (Hint: it’s Michael Douglas). Frankly, I’ve never heard a commie say “greed is good”. At any rate, is there no depredation when some qualified middle-age man holds a miserable MacJob because he was recently fired due to cuts, whereas a 21 year old Wall Street broker can become extremely rich through some housing bubble?

Brennan, largely as response to Cohen, focuses almost exclusively on the economic and social aspects of the dispute between socialism and capitalism. But there are many other aspects that are deeply relevant, and Brennan remains silent about them. What about the environment? Sure, capitalism may be an utopia where everyone keeps private property, and everyone helps each other without the State forcing anyone. But, can we trust that entrepreneurs are able to put limits on their own productivity in order to rationally administer natural resources? Brennan seems to think that capitalism is actually good for the environment, as private property allows us to avoid the tragedy of the commons, and private owners will never overfish, as it hurts their own businesses. I am not convinced by this theoretical explanations; it seems to me global warming (as a consequence of aggressive industrialization) speaks for itself, and this is a much more robust empirical reality.

What about the degradation of human relationships? Can we be sure that in the capitalist utopia where everyone is seeking a profit, friendship retains its value, and it doesn’t degenerate into just one more commodity? It will suffice to read Michael Sandel’s What Money Can’t Buy to be disturbed about how far the economizing of society is taking us, from selling spots in queues for doctors’ appointments in China, to paying desperate poor people to tattoo corporate logos on their bodies, as a new form of guerrilla advertising. What about art? Walter Benjamin famously argued that, whenever performances become means to make money, and not really art for art’s sake, real aesthetic emotion is lost. These cultural Marxist arguments may be flawed (and something tells me that, indeed they are), but I just can’t put my finger on their flaws, and I wish Brennan would have tackled more these issues. Today, one strand in the critique of capitalism is not so much that it generates inequality or explotation, but rather, that it dehumanizes and alienates, as the world becomes a gigantic profit machine (Chaplin’s Modern Times is much more about this, than about poverty or inequality). Brennan leaves these matters largely untouched.

If we had the magic wand, then yes, I very much would choose the capitalist utopia delineated by Brennan. But, I think that, for the most part, this is a moot exercise. We would profit more from having our feet on the ground, and wonder: is real capitalism what we really want? I think there is plenty of room for reforms.

In Brennan’s utopia, capitalists would not exploit workers; but Brennan insists, they would achieve this moral ground on their own, no State enforcement would be necessary. I do not think this is achievable in the real world. If human beings have the opportunity to exploit, they will surely do so. That is why I believe the State must step in, to enforce some sort of regulation; perhaps minimum wages and price control in some vital commodities. Furthermore, I am deeply convinced by John Rawls’ arguments that some sort of social safety net is needed for the least benefited in capitalism, and this is only achievable through taxation and wealth redistribution. Thus, certainly the capitalist real world is better than the socialist real world, but I have come to believe that regulated capitalism works better than absolute laissez faire capitalism. It’s very easy to compare South Korea with North Korea in order to defend capitalism; but it seems to me we should also compare Malasya with the Scandinavian countries, and hopefully, this comparison would allow us to appreciate that regulated capitalism seems to work better than laissez faire.

Brennan acutely points out that there is a major moral difference between socialism and capitalism. In capitalism, socialists are tolerated, and communes are allowed, as long as they are voluntary and never enforced; whereas in socialism, private property is not allowed. That is the beauty of capitalism: you are free to do as you wish (including living in a socialist commune), as long as you don’t push it down other people’s throats. This is a very seductive libertarian argument, but I think the world is more complicated than that. Some sort of coercion is necessary in roder to avoid explotation that has the appearance of voluntary transactions. Many market transactions are voluntary in the sense that nobody has a gun to his head, but oftentimes, they are driven by desperation, and this is a subtle form of coercion.

Justice is usually represented as a woman with the weight balance in one hand, and the sword in the other. In utopia, sure, people know what is just, and no force is necessary. In the real world, however, there will always be opprsive robber barons, and some sort of protection must jump in. This protection is enforced only through the sword.