The early Greeks are said to have invented the idea of democracy, but that wasn’t their only contribution to the philosophy of governance. They also pioneered the importance of the “golden mean,” the mean between extremes.
Right now, we are experiencing an assault on both of those critically important concepts.
The assault on democracy is well-understood; indeed, it preoccupies the political discourse. The importance of the “Golden Mean” is less understood. The Golden Mean was a core concept in Aristotelian ethics; Aristotle argued that virtue consists of finding the right balance in our behaviors and emotions. (For example, courage is a virtue that lies between the extremes of recklessness and cowardice. Generosity is a virtue that lies between stinginess and prodigality.)
American politics constantly wrestles with the proper balance between individualism and communitarianism. The country was founded on the principle that individuals are entitled to a generous zone of liberty–a zone that government should not invade until or unless that individual is harming the person or property of another, That principle gave rise to a very American, almost religious belief in individualism, and a corresponding suspicion of social programs and laws for the common good, which are inevitably opposed as unAmerican “socialism” or “communism.”
In the real world, of course, we are faced with finding a proper balance: what sorts of things really must be done communally, and when do government programs unnecessarily breach individual liberties? (I will ignore, for purposes of this discussion, the hypocrisy of MAGA folks who disdain “socialism” only when it benefits poor folks, and who have no problem with a corporatism that translates into socialism for the rich and a brutal capitalism for everyone else…)
What triggered the foregoing discussion was an article from the Guardian about–of all things–diet and exercise and long life. The article noted a decline in public health and life expectancies in rich countries, and posed the obvious question: what explains the gap between the public’s growing knowledge about living longer and its collective health going backwards?
The author of the essay is a public health scientist in Great Britain, whose job is looking into the factors that affect how long we will live. As she wrote,
Most of these are out of individual control and have to do with the country and community we live in. The truth is, this “self-help” narrative doesn’t reflect the reality of how health works. In fact, the focus on personal responsibility and self-improvement has distracted us from the real issue –the impact that public policy, infrastructure and community make in affecting our health chances and longevity.
After citing the far better health and longevity outcomes in places like Japan, she writes that “What stands out about these places is that the people living there don’t just make individual choices that lead to better health – they live in places where healthy lives are normalised by government and culture.”
As I talk about in my new book, if I’m going to live to 100, I need more than fastidiously counting my calories and posting pictures of myself exercising on Instagram (which I am guilty of). I need to live in a world where health is a collective responsibility, not an individual one. This means supporting policies that make us all healthier – and politicians who prioritise the conditions for good health such as nutritious food especially for children, active cities, clean air policies, preventive healthcare and public provision of water, which should be at the core of what a government provides its citizens. There are lessons in how to improve life in all of these areas across the world: these are places where good health is built into daily life.
I confess that I have a strong libertarian streak, and a corresponding belief in the importance of the individual values of diligence, honesty, and hard work. But common sense requires recognition of the importance of the communities in which we live–the societies within which we are, in communitarian jargon–“embedded.” People cannot pull themselves up by their bootstraps if they don’t have boots. They cannot simply choose to breathe clean air and drink uncontaminated water. Poor people without health insurance cannot simply decide not to need medical care.
Whether politicians want to acknowledge it or not, there are major elements of our lives that can only be addressed communally, and most of those can only be accomplished through government. Our job is to craft a social infrastructure that is adequate, that supports without intruding–to find that elusive “Golden Mean.”
The daily headlines confirm the utter incompetence of the MAGA Republicans Trump has selected to run the federal government, and it understandable that rational people are experiencing varieties of depression. At least in the short-to-medium term, millions of people will be hurt. Badly. Assuming Trump gets his tariffs and his appointees, there will be dramatic inflation and domestic chaos; worse still, the chances of triggering World War three will be higher than they’ve been in a long time.
Not exactly the sort of situation to inspire hope. So how would a Pollyanna approach what promises to be a very dark time?
The answer to that question lies in the “what comes after.” There is no doubt that, barring a miracle, the next few years will see significant destruction of federal governance. We have already experienced the erosion of longstanding norms of democratic behavior in Congress; the narrowness of GOP victory (and the return of several congressional lunatics) will undoubtedly keep the House dysfunctional. Trump’s Supreme Court has already demonstrated its willingness to abandon the rule of law. With the guardrails gone, it will get very ugly very quickly, and a lot of people will suffer.
But the thing about ugly is: it engenders anger and resistance. And it ultimately collapses.
Over the past two hundred plus years, American law and policy have changed–often for the better, but also for the worse. Our electoral system has ossified, becoming less representative and less democratic. Our economic system has morphed from capitalism to a corporatism/crony capitalism that heavily favors the haves. Our social safety net is unwieldy, unnecessarily bureaucratic and underinclusive. Our citizens no longer trust the government or each other.
The underappreciated Biden Administration moved to correct much of the economic damage–and those moves were widely successful. Had Harris been elected, it is likely that she would have continued along that path of incremental improvement–but she couldn’t have dislodged the moneyed interest groups or repaired the the baked-in electoral dysfunctions–the Electoral College, the bloated version of the filibuster, the widespread gerrymandering and other structural mechanisms distorting the “voice of the people.”
The term “creative destruction” was first coined by Marx, who applied it to capitalism, but it has subsequently taken on a variety of other meanings. Here, I’m using it to describe a process in which widespread destruction of existing systems facilitates the birth of a better replacement. As we watch the Trumpers’ purposeful destruction of a governing framework that has developed over 200+ years, we need to consider what we will create to replace it. Any such consideration requires that we be clear-eyed about the nature of our structural, economic, legal and educational failures and inequities.
It will also require a national conversation on a basic topic: what is government for?
In coming posts, I will lay out my own argument, which is essentially that government is the mechanism through which a society provides two necessary infrastructures: one physical and one social. There is very little disagreement about responsibility for the physical infrastructure, although the pro-privatization movement made some (largely unsuccessful) inroads. Instead, our political disputes have largely centered on the contours of the social infrastructure.
America’s obsessive focus on individual responsibility and achievement has obscured recognition of the equally important role played by the governing institutions within which we are embedded. Elizabeth Warren summed it up in a much-cited comment.
“There is nobody in this country who got rich on their own. Nobody. You built a factory out there – good for you. But I want to be clear. You moved your goods to market on roads the rest of us paid for. You hired workers the rest of us paid to educate. You were safe in your factory because of police forces and fire forces that the rest of us paid for. You didn’t have to worry that marauding bands would come and seize everything at your factory… Now look. You built a factory and it turned into something terrific or a great idea – God bless! Keep a hunk of it. But part of the underlying social contract is you take a hunk of that and pay forward for the next kid who comes along.”
We Americans too often fail to recognize the extent to which individual success is dependent upon government’s ability to provide a physical, legal and cultural environment within which success can occur.
Bottom line: We absolutely need to resist the illegal and inhumane actions of the incoming administration. But we also need to think long and hard about the repair job–the dimensions of an improved social contract– that will be needed when this eruption of corruption and bigotry has run its course.
Time Magazine recently ran an interview with a top global economist, who has authored a book about what humans owe each other–in other words, about a new or perhaps renewed social contract. Several of her concerns mirror my own; as readers of this blog are aware, my last book,Living Together,was focused on the same question.
The notion of a social contract was first introduced by John Locke and his formulation became a foundation of American law and culture. The U.S. Constitution was heavily influenced by Enlightenment philosophers like Locke, who rejected the divine right of Kings in favor of a belief in a theorized “contract” in which citizens grant government an exclusive right to the exercise of coercive power in return for an obligation to provide for their safety and welfare–the “law and order” required for civilization. Citizens could revoke government’s authority if government failed in its mission or breached the bounds of the contract.
Most European nations have subsequently adopted social contract theories that are considerably more expansive than the version embraced by most Americans. Those versions interpret government’s obligation to provide “social goods” broadly, including access to healthcare.
Several years ago, I collaborated with colleagues in on an article intended to probe America’s limited view of the proper role for government in social welfare, and to demonstrate that the Affordable Care Act–and for that matter, single-payer health insurance–really was consistent with Locke’s view of a social contract. (We noted that a deficit of civic knowledge poses a significant barrier to efforts to revisit social contract theory–revisiting a theory is impossible for those who have never visited that theory in the first place.)
Take the contemporary debate over healthcare reform. This fight cannot be understood without recognizing the continued potency of the country’s foundational assumptions, and especially the continued relevance of social contract theory most directly attributed to John Locke. In this paper, we echo arguments made by historians and legal theorists like Daniel Boorstin and Louis Hartz who noted that Americans who may never have heard of Locke or the Enlightenment, have nevertheless internalized Locke’s philosophy in ways that make social inclusion and extensions of the social safety net particularly difficult. In a very real sense, John Locke doomed more comprehensive healthcare reform, at least in the short term, and made it far more difficult to extend unemployment benefits, increase payments under Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF), or raise the minimum wage. If we are to have any success in changing the long term prospects for these and similar reforms, we will need to go beyond the academic, moral, and fiscal arguments, no matter how persuasive some of us find them, and directly engage the need to update and expand our basic understanding of the social contract.
We were writing during the initial debates over the ACA, which we noted was yet another iteration of America’s deeply embedded conflict between Social Darwinism and the Social Gospel.
No matter how logical or effective, programs requiring extensive government involvement, or that include “mandates” of any sort, trigger an almost visceral reaction in those who tend more to Social Darwinism, a belief that “productive” people’s rights are thereby violated, and that such approaches are contrary to freedom, to “real” Americanism. In other words, at a basic—perhaps unconscious—level, many people believe that government involvement in healthcare, or government intervention via provision of a social safety net, is somehow un-American and therefore must be rejected. It does no good to point out how deeply government is already involved in providing a social safety net through Social Security, or in providing health care in particular (e.g., the Veterans Administration which is the largest integrated health care system in the country serving more than 8.75 million Veterans each year) — the issue is emotional, not factual. The passage of Medicare generated cries of socialism, and the New Deal—even in the midst of the Great Depression—was aggressively opposed. It is the rare social program that hasn’t had to contend with accusations of incipient communism.
Our article explored the reasons for that “emotional” response, and those of you with time and temperament to wade through its scholarship can agree or disagree with our analysis, but I think it is fair to say that the underlying issue has become considerably more salient.
Humans around the globe are faced not just with a pandemic, but with the existential threat posed by climate change. Individuals are powerless to address those threats. Collective action is required, and government is our mechanism for collective action.
A workable social contract requires government to protect individual autonomy, provide a supportive social infrastructure and take decisive action to protect the common good.
A few days ago, Talking Points Memo ran a story about Republicans’ assault on Biden’s infrastructure bill. That bill is extremely popular, even with the GOP base, so the party’s determination to oppose it had to be something other than “hell no, don’t fill those chuckholes or reinforce the electrical grid…”
According to the story, they’ve chosen to defend their opposition by arguing that the bill improperly defines the term “infrastructure.”
“You look at this bill, the $2 trillion in the bill that, only about 5 to 7 percent of it is actual roads and bridges and ports and things that you and I would say is real infrastructure and that we tried to get passed under the last administration with President Trump,” former Office of Management and Budget Director Russell Vought said recently on Fox News radio.
That statistic is particularly misleading, as it doesn’t count even things like rail and water systems — improvements that fall into the traditional infrastructure bucket.
Republicans charge that expenditures for broadband and green energy, among other provisions of the bill, aren’t infrastructure.
That argument prompted me to look at some of the academic literature. It turns out that there aren’t many publications dealing with the definition of infrastructure, although there’s more than I ever imagined on the economics involved–the returns on investment, the pros and cons of “public-private partnerships,” and various aspects of construction. But there was some, and it was enlightening.
For example, a number of scholars use the term “social overhead capital.” It evidently grew out of Samuelson’s theory of public goods; Samuelson understood infrastructure to be investments by the state that are a precondition for the successful development of the private sector– the basic services without which primary, secondary and tertiary types of production activities cannot function.
In other words, infrastructure is a support system, a floor built by government, that allows businesses and individuals to be productive. That certainly includes roads, bridges, and other elements of our transportation requirements. It also includes technology we need in order to communicate–hence broadband–and the need to keep the lights on–hence the electrical grid. It rather obviously includes water and sewers.
But these days, what constitutes that supportive floor has also come to include social infrastructure–services as well as brick and mortar assets. Social infrastructure includes educational institutions, libraries, parks…It definitely includes police and fire protection, courts of law, garbage collection and other municipal services. In saner countries, it includes healthcare and a menu of social services.
Effective government is a mechanism through which we provide a network of support that allows individual citizens to prosper. That network of support is Infrastructure and it isn’t something the market can supply. Using government to provide foundational systems and services is simply the process of doing collectively what we cannot do individually.
In that literature I consulted, there was ample evidence that physical infrastructure is required if business and the economy are to thrive, and a substantial amount of emerging evidence that social infrastructure is equally necessary to support and empower individuals and families.
Biden’s American Jobs Plan would invest $400 billion in the caregiving economy; $137 billion in schools, early learning centers, and community colleges; $111 billion in clean drinking water; and $621 billion in various transportation projects. All of those investments are part of a supportive network that will pay dividends by enabling more Americans to live productive lives.
That supportive network is certainly infrastructure.
Later this morning, I will speak–via Zoom–to the Danville Unitarians on the subject of freedom. Here’s a lightly edited version of that talk–a bit long, so my apologies.
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There’s an inevitable tension between Americans’ love of freedom—understood as our freedom from government rules dictating our behaviors—and the obligation citizens have to contribute appropriately to the common good. That tension has manifested itself most recently in a series of conflicts in which self-styled “freedom fighters” have challenged government mandates to wear masks and observe social distancing, but we have seen similar conflicts when government has required us to wear seatbelts or to refrain from smoking in restaurants and bars.
That tension also motivates our continuing political arguments about tax rates and social welfare programs.
Where do we draw the line between our right to personal autonomy and the government-enforced duties we owe to others? What are those duties, who gets to prescribe them, and how important is our willingness to discharge them? What is our duty to contribute to what academics call social solidarity, and most of us would call a sense of community?
The most basic question of political philosophy is: what should government do? The U.S. Bill of Rights is our list of things that government should not do—censor speech, favor religion, search citizens without probable cause or infringe their liberty interests or property rights without due process, among other things—but America hasn’t revisited (or, really, visited) an equally fundamental question: what is government for? To put it another way, what elements of our social and physical infrastructure should we expect government in the 21st Century to provide—and what are our obligations in return?
We recognize physical infrastructure: roads, bridges, sidewalks, sewers, the national electrical grid. Even then, even with physical infrastructure, there is less recognition of the importance of other elements of the built environment: parks, libraries, public transportation, utilities, street lighting and other elements that collectively produce a community’s “quality of life.” What’s worse, despite almost universal agreement about the importance of physical infrastructure, America’s roads and bridges are in serious disrepair, our electrical grid is vulnerable to hacking, and sewer overflows continue to pollute rivers and streams. Aging pipes are contaminating drinking water in numerous cities and towns; problems with lead in the water are not limited to the widely-publicized situation in Flint, Michigan.
The problems with America’s physical infrastructure are visible, widely acknowledged and await only a rebirth of political will to fix. The defects in our social infrastructure, however, are much less clear-cut, and because they are highly contested, they resist repair.
By “social infrastructure,” I mean programs that help citizens and build community, including access to economic security, health, education, and the right to equal participation in democratic decision-making, most definitely including the right to vote.
Aristotle thought that social infrastructure should facilitate human flourishing– create an environment within which each individual can live, grow and pursue his or her own particular telos, or life goals.
Americans currently face considerable challenges: a rapidly morphing information environment that facilitates spin, disinformation and outright propaganda, an increasingly overt tribalism, deepening economic inequality, widespread civic ignorance, and the accelerating corruption of America’s legal and political structures. All of these elements of contemporary reality, plus the existential threats posed by climate change and a global pandemic, challenge America’s future.
What comes next? Where does America go from here? Do we fix our problems, or relinquish our place on the world stage and terminate our historically uneven efforts to live up to the ideals of the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights?
Clearly, we’re at a turning point. We could continue the Trumpian withdrawal from global alliances and our own historic civic aspirations. We could enter a period of extreme social unrest, with escalating protests and accelerating social factionalism, leading to a very uncertain future. Or we could revisit America’s existing social contract and evaluate the current utility of our governing assumptions—reaffirming those that have stood the test of time, and modifying those that no longer serve us.
America has always defined freedom in the negative–as the individual’s right to be free of government constraint unless she is harming the person or property of someone else. That view of freedom has generated significant conflict: what constitutes a harm sufficient to justify government intervention? How much deference to the rights of others is required? Which others? Is the obligation of government limited to non-interference, or do citizens have the right to demand that government pursue positive actions? If so, what are those actions?
Defining liberty has become even more complicated as America’s population and diversity have increased, as equality (another contested term) has become an equally important value, and as society has become more global and more complex. At a minimum, genuine liberty, genuine freedom, requires more than enforcing limits on the reach of government, important as those limits remain. True liberty– allowing individuals to determine and pursue their individual aspirations– requires ensuring that all citizens have both the means to exercise choice, and sufficient information to inform those choices.
Nobel Prize winning economist Amartya Sen argues that freedom is the ability to exercise individual agency, and that personal agency is inescapably limited, inescapably constrained by available social, political and economic opportunities. Individual agency—the ability of each person to formulate and pursue his or her life goals– is dependent upon what Sen calls “social arrangements”–what I’m call ing“social infrastructure.”
I hate to argue with my libertarian friends, but in today’s complex and inter-dependent society, government’s responsibility cannot simply be to get out of the way.
Anti-government attitudes that permeate contemporary American culture have been profoundly influenced by a Protestant Ethic that exaggerated the ability of individuals to rise above social and structural impediments, and minimized the extent to which the social infrastructure in which we are all inevitably embedded contributes to, enables—or hinders—individual achievement.
In addition to older, traditional functions, today’s governments must provide citizens with at least a basic social safety net that supports human freedom and allows citizens to reach their potential. That safety net can be constructed in ways that unify or further divide us.
Here’s an example of what I mean: Look at the widespread, negative attitudes toward welfare programs, and then consider the massive support that exists for Social Security and Medicare. Why the difference? Social Security and Medicare are universal programs; virtually everyone contributes to them and everyone who lives long enough participates in their benefits. Just as we don’t generally hear accusations about lazy poor people who are “driving on roads paid for by my taxes,” beneficiaries of programs that include everyone (or almost everyone) are much more likely to escape stigma and much less likely to arouse resentment. In addition to the usual questions of efficacy and cost-effectiveness, policymakers in a diverse polity should evaluate proposed programs and other government actions by considering whether they are likely to unify or further divide Americans. Universal policies are far more likely to create unity, an important and often overlooked argument favoring programs like single-payer health insurance or a Universal Basic Income.
A workable social contract must respect individual rights and subgroup affiliations, but must also connect citizens to an overarching community in which they have equal membership and from which they receive equal support. The challenge is to achieve a healthy balance—to create a society that genuinely respects individual autonomy within a renewed emphasis on community and the common good, a society that both rewards individual effort and talent, and nurtures the equal expression of those talents irrespective of tribal identity.
That society would have the right to expect its members to pay their dues—taxes, of course, but also a stint of military or public service, and discharge of civic duties like voting and jury service.
How do we get there? How do we turn our cantankerous and tribal society into a cohesive community? There’s a Native American parable that I think is instructive: One evening, an elderly Cherokee brave told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, “My son, the battle is between two wolves that are inside all of us. One is evil. The other is good.” The grandson asked, “Which wolf wins?” and the grandfather replied, “The one you feed.”
America needs a social and political infrastructure that feeds—encourages, promotes and rewards—prosocial, pro-democratic, humane behaviors and norms. Assuming we emerge from the angry and difficult period we are going through—assuming that we vote decisively for democracy and decency on November 3d, it will be time to come together and figure out how government can “feed” the good wolf.
It is past time to honor America’s original motto: e pluribus unum, out of the many, one.
