Suppose I Wrote a Book on Integralism: What Should I Cover?

As I finish copyediting and page proofing for my next book, Trust in a Polarized Age, I’ve been thinking about my next big book project. I’ve become increasingly interested in exploring illiberal political perfectionism, the view that the ultimate duty of the state is to promote the good and the good life for citizens, but where the good life is described not as a life lived autonomously, but as one that participates in some kind of communal and/or religious value, like a relationship with God. Illiberal perfectionism includes all theocratic states, but also anti-liberal ideological states, like China.

The prime new form of illiberal perfectionism that people are talking about is Catholic Integralism, which I have blogged about quite a bit here. The view, in short, is a Catholic illiberal perfectionism, where the state, subordinated in some respects to the Catholic Church, organizes law and policy to help man attain eternal salvation. I’m no integralist, but I’m fascinated by it for reasons I’ve outlined, and I’ve found that many other non-integralists are as well. So I’ve put together a book proposal on integralism, and I’m wondering what sorts of subjects and arguments I should cover.

Right now the goal of the book is to critique integralism with a just the arguments approach. I’m not going to insult integralism or degrade it in any way. And I will do best to render their arguments as powerfully as I can. I also want to avoid focusing entirely on the practicality of integralism in, say, the United States. What I’m interested in is whether integralism is a political ideal and whether we ought to pursue that ideal when we can.

I also won’t focus on whether Catholicism is true, or whether Catholicism dogmatically required integralism (it doesn’t require integralism, but it does require some practices that are more consistent with integralist political theory than alternatives). I’m an Eastern Orthodox Christian, of a fairly theologically orthodox sort, so I don’t disagree with Catholics about all that much about the good life.

Given these restrictions, what I want to know is the following: is an integralist political regime the proper political ideal if Catholic Christianity, or something near enough, is true? In brief, must the state be Catholic?

My answer is that integralism is not the proper political ideal. I have a number of reasons for thinking so. But here is a brief summary of the arguments I find persuasive. Let me know if you find them of interest.

  1. Baptism and Religious Coercion: integralism faces an unresolvable tension between its commitment to protecting extensive religious freedom for the baptized and restricting the religious freedom of the baptized. They need to show that baptism generates an enforceable duty of fair play, but it probably can’t be done.
  2. Diversity and Instability: even if we could reach integralism, it is a feature of human nature to deeply disagree about ultimate matters, and an integralist regime will have to suppress that diversity in ways that either contravene natural law or undermine the stability of the regime.
  3. The Common Good: much of the drive towards integralism is that it is the best way to realize the true common good. I argue that the common good includes respect for the dignity of the person as a proper part, implying the existence of natural rights associated with that dignity. For this reason, the common good might have internal deontic principles incompatible with integralist coercion, so integralists can’t rely so heavily on the common good as the normative foundation of their view.
  4. Reciprocity: integralism states that what justifies political power is the state promoting the correct conception of the good. I argue that in doing so, integralism ignores the natural law of reciprocity, which requires that justifications for political power by reciprocal, ones that all can recognize as valid. The problem, in short, is that integralism violates the Golden Rule: integralists would not like to have other sectarian values imposed upon them, and so should not insist that others abide by theirs.
  5. Reaching Integralism: integralist regimes have existed in the past, and for long periods of time. So we know how integralism would look to some degree, and we can anticipate the kids of policies that would be required in order to get there. Or do we? Perhaps as integralists succeed in closing American society, their ability to figure out how to institutionalize integralism would degrade because closing down open societies can often reduce our knowledge about how to improve our social institutions. This isn’t a mere pragmatic point; it is a barrier faced by any attempt to realize integralism.

So, I know those are pretty vague, but do they sound of interest to people?

Important Religious Liberty Victories at the Supreme Court

Important victories for religious liberty today, but the Little Sisters decision far from settles their “legal odyssey” (as Alito puts it). All that happened is that the Court let the Trump Administration broaden the exemption from what the Obama Administration offered. From what I can tell, you’d need new litigation to stop a future Democratic administration to re-narrow the exemption again, but someone correct me if I am wrong. Here are some of my quick reactions. (I’d write in more detail, but I’m knee-deep in copyediting for my next book, Trust in a Polarized Age.)

1. The good news about today is that the large majority of the Court is prepared to defend religious liberty, and to force the federal government to seek other methods for facilitating contraception access, LGBT equality, and so on besides compromising the liberty of religious institutions. That’s essential for justice, and the political stability of the country. Progressives, you’ll govern the vast majority of American public institutions in accord with your conception of equality; you just have to make some exceptions for the sake of peace and mutual respect.

2. These religious liberty issues are part of the basis for Trump’s support, and I hope my progressive readers will factor that into account in deciding how hard to fight these battles. For me, the contraception mandate was the deciding factor in my decision to vote for Romney in 2012. I didn’t vote for Trump, but I was not able to oppose him with my whole heart because of these issues. There are many like me, progressive friends. We want to join you, but not when you ask us to choose between opposing Trump and harming the Church. 

3. Most of my readers are secular, so let me quickly review how I think about the morality of the Little Sisters case (the details of which are more complicated than you may initially think). Basically, the case at issue, if you describe it in terms of the perspectives of groups like the Little Sisters, is that the federal government is forcing them to choose between a divinely-given vocation and imperiling their souls. Contraception, for some of these groups, is often seen as a *mortal* (roughly, damning until confessed) sin, and facilitating contraception in any way is also a mortal sin. So basically, from these groups’ perspectives, the feds are pressuring them into the possibility of an *infinite utility loss*. I know what it is like to fear for your soul. It might be the worst thing ever. And it’d be nice if the feds would find a way to ensure contraception coverage that didn’t have this implication. I hope my secular friends will try to take our perspective here.

4. I actually think when you get into the details, the Little Sisters themselves may not even be the subject of these legal strictures since their insurance provider is exempt, so it is kind of misleading to make them the public face of the religious liberty side of this case. But the other side is in many ways worse, claiming that women would be harmed by these exemption but were (from what I can tell) unable to find an instance of it. So the case is more political than I realized at first, which dampens my enthusiasm somewhat. So that needs to be said. But remember that this isn’t the end of seamless contraception coverage. The feds just have to pay for it directly, rather than making religious institutions into their instruments.

5. I agree with David French that Gorsuch may well have a plan to impose a religious liberty compromise on the country that is probably a good idea, and not unlike the Utah Compromise, where LGBT people come under equality before the law in employment, but extensive religious exemptions are provided to institutions that have a traditional view of sexual morality. I think it is a stable legal equilibrium, one that makes neither side happy, but the legal settlement that is most likely justified to the widest group of people. I don’t like that the Supreme Court is imposing the compromise on the country, but neither of the major parties are willing to compromise on the matter, and so at least we’re getting the right result, if in a non-ideal way. But Gorsuch may be intent on making the religious liberty/LGBT liberty less red hot, and as someone who believes in the values of peace, trust, and mutual respect, that gives me some hope. This is what reconciliation often looks like, folks. It isn’t victory, there is loss, but there is a beauty to it.

Should Pro-Lifers Support TRAP Laws?

TRAP laws (Targeted Regulations of Abortion) have become an important policy tool for the pro-life movement at the state level. They’ve used these laws to effectively close many abortion clinics, based on the dubious claim that the regulations that led the clinics to close were necessary to protect women’s health. The Supreme Court just struck down a TRAP Louisiana, as they did in Texas a few years earlier.

For the purposes of this post, assume the pro-life position is correct. Should pro-lifers support TRAP laws? On the one hand, the answer seems to be yes, because stopping abortion is a moral emergency, and shutting down abortion clinics probably reduces the abortion rate somewhat.

One might reply that deception is wrong even in the favor of one’s most important political objectives, and even when your opponents do it. But stopping abortion might be so morally urgent that deception can be justified. So this point will probably only succeed for pro-lifers who think deception is always prohibited (like orthodox Catholics).

The better argument against supporting TRAP laws is that doing so discredits the character of the pro-life movement. Recall that the average pro-choice activist doesn’t usually want to talk about whether the unborn are persons; they seldom want to talk philosophy with pro-lifers. Instead, they usually to talk about whether pro-lifers hate the poor and want to control women. I know many pro-choicers who are absolutely convinced that pro-lifers *must* be badly motivated. Why? I can’t tell. But here’s my guess. If pro-lifers are sincere in their love for the unborn, and virtuous in fighting for their cause, they are harder to dismiss, and their arguments are harder to dismiss. And this in turn raises the possibility that pro-lifers might be right. Scary stuff for progressives who tend to think of themselves as on the right side of history.

That’s why I think pro-lifers should want their political and rhetorical strategies to be above reproach, to show those on the fence that pro-lifers aren’t monsters, that they don’t hate women, and that they support the poor. So perhaps the pro-life movement went down the wrong road in these cases.

The Goal of Police Reform Must Be To Restore Trust Between Police and Citizens

One of the only promising political developments as of late is the possibility of policing reform, in some way to change the incentives that the police face in order to reduce police brutality. I will say, however, that I worry that people aren’t thinking far enough in advance of what a desirable new institutional equilibrium looks like. What sort of enduring relationship do we want there to be between police and the citizens they are sworn to protect?

The relationship we want is mutual trust. We want to be able to trust police to enforce the law (or at least most laws, besides grossly unjust and absurd ones), and to otherwise abide by ordinary moral norms. And we want police to be able to trust most people so they don’t react in suspicious and harmful ways without cause. That’s absolutely key: we want both groups to be able to trust each other. High trust and trustworthiness is a kind of equilibrium, and everyone is more at ease and can focus more on positive projects and forms of life when trust is high.

The worry I have about the current discussion is that the cited goals don’t seem to be to restore trust but to destroy it and make it harder than ever to restore. Violent protests and continued policy brutality are leading to fewer police and police less willing to do their jobs. This means crime will increase because of police inaction, and police brutality may not be reduced as a result. What we want is more cops on the beat, not fewer, since police presence seems to have a clear negative effect on crime. But we also want the behavior of police to change to resemble that more like in Western Europe, with less militarization, fewer violent weapons, and less use of physical force. We want police to police well, and we should want to be able to trust them to police and police well.

The first step in any reform, then, is to ensure that the police are given the right incentives to be trustworthy, in particular by acting within the norms of ordinary moral behavior and the public’s moral expectations about permissible police use of force. Ending qualified immunity could be a step in this direction because the penalties for acting outside of the moral norm would increase. The second step is to reform policing so that police are taught to be more trusting, and less suspicion and desiring to dominate others. With a large public reform in this direction, coupled with benefits for police who are more trusting and trustworthy would be a big step in the right direction. But policy that is punitive, that leads the police to feel despised and untrusted, and so with little incentive to reform, is likely to produce worse policy outcomes.

Part of trust is believing that trustees are acting for moral reasons, so we do not want reforms merely aimed at beating cops down and appealing solely to their self-interest. We should also aim at policy that encourages police to act on their conscience, rather than penalizing them for doing so. If we think police are only behaving out of fear, then they will misbehave when they think they can get away with it. But incentives for acting morally can generate more stable behavior because the desired behavior comes from within.

It turns out that trust in the legal system is closely correlated with social trust, though we don’t know why just yet. My sense is that police are often seen as exemplary community members, and so when trust in police falls, trust in most people can fall, at least among younger people who are still deciding how trusting to be. We very much don’t want this to happen, since social trust has enormous benefits. So another reason to support police reform is the potentially positive effect on social trust.

So, when formulating police policy, please keep the end goal in mind: we want to trust police to enforce the law morally. Our goal should not be to punish the police or destroy them, but to reorient their incentives, discourage bad behavior, and encourage good, trustworthy behavior. As trustworthiness rises, trust can rise as well, creating a mutually reinforcing cycle. The present attitudes towards the police, however, seem destined to reduce trust in the police and reduce police presence, which will hurt everyone. We need policing reform, but it must be guided by the goal of building community trust.

 

Tribal Reasoning and Public Reasoning – Reply to Brennan and My Take on Achen and Bartels

Now that Bleeding Heart Libertarians has closed up shop, the BHL diaspora has begun. Jason Brennan, Chris Frieman, and Jess Flanigan – all friends – have started up a new blog with a different approach – 200-proof liberals. I recommend subscribing to it, though it is meant to have a very different rhetorical style than the BHL project.

J has posted a summary of a piece he has written criticizing public reason views for failing to grapple with what we know about political psychology, especially that people engage in post-hoc tribal reasoning in politics. But public reason liberalism, the dominant approach to legitimacy in political philosophy, supposes that people reason independently of their tribe, at least to some extent, such that clear rational commitments can be identified, and justifications for laws and policies can then be crafted in terms of those fairly stable reasons. So public reason liberalism is wrong because it depends on people having more stable rational commitments than they actually do.

Obviously I disagree with this argument, which Brennan has constructed by drawing on the new Achen and Bartels book in particular. Fortunately, I think the argument is good enough that I devote some time to it in my forthcoming book, Trust in a Polarized Age. Here I’m going to reproduce much of what I say there. But before I do, let me just say this. I think Americans these days tend to be more impressed by the irrationality of political behavior than Europeans. Many Europeans countries aren’t especially polarized, and some of these countries are very trusting, like the Nordic countries, and so I don’t think the trends J is pointing to are universal features of democratic polities. People are politically tribal to varying degrees, and the US is in a particularly but peculiarly bad place right now relative to some other democracies. So if we take an international perspective, I think the idea that politics is necessarily war looks less plausible even from 30,000 feet. OK, with that, here’s what I have to say about the main line of argument.

I summarize the Achen-Bartels view J appeals to in section I. So if you know the view, skip to section II.


I. Achen and Bartels’s Challenge.

The thesis of Achen and Bartels’s Democracy for Realists is that elections don’t produce responsive government. Instead, “voters, even the most informed voters, typically make choices not on the basis of policy preferences or ideology, but on the basis of who they are—their social identities.” The worry is that “if voting behavior primarily reflects and reinforces voters’ social loyalties, it is a mistake to suppose that elections result in popular control of public policy.” Instead, election outcomes are simply “erratic reflections of the current balance of partisan loyalties in a given political system.” I have already addressed the possibility of using small-scale deliberative bodies to reveal the preferences and reasons of citizens in chapter 7, but Achen and Bartels argue that empirical studies of these small political bodies “seem to be less relevant for understanding democratic politics on a national scale.” For the purposes of this section, I will assume that microcosmic deliberation cannot serve as a substitute for national elections.

Part of Achen and Bartels’s argument is that citizens lack enough information and motivation to engage in retrospective voting, voting based on the past performance of political parties and candidates. In general, Achen and Bartels claim to cast “considerable doubt on the view that citizens can reliably form and act upon sensible retrospective judgments at election time.” Retrospective voting is complicated by three factors: low political knowledge, mistaken assessments of one’s own well-being, and a limited time horizon for economic accountability where citizens only attend to their economic condition in proximity to a national election.

Achen and Bartels embrace a group theory of politics. This means that “the primary sources of partisan loyalties and voting behavior … are social identities, group attachments, and myopic retrospections, not policy preferences or ideological principles.” This is so in part because extra information doesn’t make citizens more accurate; instead, “party identification colors the perceptions of the most politically informed citizens far more than the relatively less informed citizens.” Citizens are not generally responsive to information about political parties, candidates, and the like, but rather filter the information to empower their group and disempower out-groups.

Achen and Bartels think their research has profound implications for democratic theory. It leaves democratic theory “in a shambles” because all “the conventional defenses of democratic government are at odds with demonstrable, centrally important facts of life,” specifically human limitations in information and motivation.

II. Preliminary Difficulties

I think Achen and Bartels overstate their case. One reply is that voting based on group membership can be an informational shortcut insofar as one’s group allegiance leads one to support the candidates one’s reasons would lead one to support. For instance, if black Americans vote based on how leading black legislators tell them to vote, that may indeed be a reasonable heuristic that helps protect them from serious harms by more powerful social groups. Thus, voting based on group membership, while sometimes problematic, may not be irrational. We can only show that it is irrational if we can show that following the views of the leaders of one’s group leads one to embrace more objectionable policies than one might otherwise accept.

Second, Achen and Bartels need to argue that because we determine our policy preferences by group membership, those preferences are unjustified. But what makes our beliefs rational is not how they came about (the causes of the beliefs) but whether the beliefs are justified by good reasons at present (the sustaining justifications of the beliefs). Thus, to show that our political preferences are problematically arbitrary, it is not enough to show that the beliefs are caused by group membership; it has to be shown that the influence of group membership shows that political preferences are irrational. After all, most of our beliefs are heavily affected by all kinds of nonrational factors, but this fact does not by itself undermine the rationality of our beliefs. Achen and Bartels can reply that policy preferences and related beliefs change so erratically and quickly that it is hard to imagine that these beliefs could be justified while they’re held. Rational beliefs should be stabler, since the reasons to support various policies do not change erratically and quickly. However, if it turns out that making political judgments is very difficult even for highly rational agents, then the evidence we have might not force us to hold one position or even limit us to a handful. If we move between reasonable, incompatible beliefs, even unpredictably and quickly, then that may merely mean the issue at hand is hard to resolve, not that the public’s preferences are irrational. The point is that while the causes of a belief or position might be arbitrary and tribal, the belief or position might still be a reasonable one.

But the best way to answer Achen and Bartels is to examine how their arguments challenge particular approaches to justifying democracy. So, I will now address how their views might undermine my public-justification approach. The basic defense I offer is that Achen and Bartels at best show either that most people have bad reasons to support, or that most people have no reasons to support, whatever policies they support—that most people do not have genuinely justifying reasons. But neither claim is a good reason to abandon a public-justification approach.

III. Achen and Bartels vs. Public Reason – The Tracking Objection

The data that Achen and Bartels cite does not actually challenge my approach to the public justification of democracy as a whole. Instead, they at best can be used to argue that a right to participate in elections will not tend to produce publicly justified laws, but there might be other public justifications for democratic elections.

So, the refined challenge is that exposing law making to elections may yield fewer publicly justified laws and policies than rules that limit the range of laws and policies that elections affect. This suggests that a publicly justified polity should rely more heavily on epistocratic mechanisms to insulate the selection of political officials from direct citizen input.

Let us call laws and policies that depend in some direct way on electoral outcomes democratically exposed. Laws might be democratically exposed through referenda or in directly elected legislative bodies. Achen and Bartels’s arguments can be used to challenge my claim that democratically exposed laws and policies will track the reasons of moderately idealized agents (note to blog readers: I think the reasons that figure into public justification can be identified by asking what a moderately idealized version of persons would endorse, save with enough time and information to adequately reflect). This is because, given extreme group loyalty, democratic outcomes will be sensitive to arbitrary factors that undermine any connection to what moderately idealized agents support. Call this the tracking objection. What’s worse, the data suggests that many citizens may not have justificatory reasons at the right level of idealization because they have no settled views about what to support or oppose. Thus, democratically exposed laws and policies will tend to reflect arbitrary and biased preferences and group loyalties. Call this the bad reason objection.

The tracking objection can be answered by conceding that citizens’ political preferences and behaviors can be affected by their group while insisting that political parties may nonetheless be good proxies for what moderately idealized versions of their members would support. One reason for this is fairly obvious: if citizens are committed to valuing what their in-group values, and their in-group is their political party, then what the parties favor is directly tied to what citizens favor. Thus, insofar as moderately idealized citizens are committed to their party’s success and effectiveness, their good reasons will be determined by what the parties favor. Compare a citizen’s commitment to the scientific community’s findings. If a person has the reason “Generally believe what the scientific community believes, because scientists are rational people, and I’m a rational person too” then that person has sufficient reason to defer to the findings of the scientific community. In the same way, if a person has the reason “Generally believe what my party believes,” then that person has sufficient reason to track what the party believes.

One might respond that moderately idealized agents will give less weight to the opinions of their group vis-à-vis good arguments for choosing policies and political officials. Moderately idealized agents will endorse laws and policies on the basis of decent information and arguments, and those determinations are unlikely to mirror what their group affirms. And yet, while this is so, many political issues are sufficiently complicated that boundedly rational agents will not be able to form opinions on all issues, so they may nonetheless want to use party or political group support as a heuristic. Along the same lines, parties are not always biased in favor of power and a desire for oppression. In many democratic societies, parties track political ideologies and the moral values of large swaths of the electorate. They also articulate platforms and arguments that are loosely responsive to evidence. So citizens may not act irrationally in embracing party platforms, and their endorsements may well track their justificatory reasons. Their motivation for adopting the party platform may be largely tribal, but they may yet have good reason to endorse that platform all the same.

A second objection is that, in societies with significant partisan divergence, especially when parties are more divergent than the general public, parties may be subject to greater biases than ordinary people. In that case, the heuristic “Generally believe what my party believes” may lead people to epistemically worse beliefs. Consequently, the heuristic may not help people’s opinions track their justificatory reasons but, rather, make them less likely to recognize what they have good reason to believe even by their own lights. But this leads into the bad reason objection.

IV. Achen and Bartels vs. Public Reason – The Bad Reason Objection

The bad reason objection says that, since people typically have tribal preferences, moderately idealized versions of tribal people will endorse not good reasons but reasons that we ordinarily would not want to have figure into public justification. They may, for instance, change their views on the appropriate foreign policy with respect to Russia based on the fact that President Trump says good things about Vladimir Putin. This implies that we should not base laws on the reasons that moderately idealized persons will typically, normally endorse.

I have two replies to this objection. First, even if many citizens have merely tribal reasons to support a coercive policy, that merely means at worst that we cannot have that policy. And if the law is not coercive, or if persons regard the process for selecting the law as legitimate, then we can permissibly impose the law on them because they are too flighty to have sound objections. We must of course ensure that the law is publicly justified for persons who do embrace good reasons. But the mere fact that most members of the public lack good reasons to favor or oppose many laws and policies does not make a public justification standard inappropriate. It just means that the public justification of the law depends primarily on the reasons of that minority of the public whose reasons should figure into public justifications.

Second, it is implausible to think that persons will have no good reasons at a moderate level of idealization simply because they exhibit arbitrary and easily altered preferences in the real world. Deliberative polls, for instance, often yield stable judgments, which even Jason Brennan acknowledges have promise. And deliberative polls are arguably proxies for moderate idealization since they subject opinions to critical scrutiny and proffer better information.

Moreover, plenty of empirical work in psychology demonstrates “value stability,” the empirical finding that the values that persons embrace are remarkably stable over the course of their lives. Thus, insofar as citizens can trace inferential routes from their stable values to their support of or opposition to particular laws and policies, there is a basis for ascribing good reasons to them because laws and policies can clearly advance or undermine their stable moral values.

For this reason, I conclude that a a public reason liberal case for democracy is not in shambles, despite Achen and Bartels’s important work. Their work does challenge the position I defend, but their objections can be answered. Perhaps in future work, Achen and Bartels, or other democratic theorists, will tease out the way in which their findings challenge public reason liberalism, but for now we can proceed without too much worry.

Protesting > Public Health > Jobs and Funerals?

It is now common on the right to condemn those like the health official in this article saying that attending a protest is “really the worst thing they can do from the pandemic standpoint” while simultaneously saying that “protesting racism and injustice is important [my emphasis], and much of the risk of a protest can be reduced by staying 6 feet (1.8 meters) away from people and wearing a mask.”

As many have noted, we’ve spent the last two months telling people they have to put up with losing their jobs and even not going to funerals for family members; and the same public health officials who were very strict on these matters have taken a much more lax attitude towards the safety of protesting injustice. DeBlasio has openly threatened Jews for attending funerals, while giving protestors a pass, though to be fair, DeBlasio has been especially egregious. But here is Gov. Whitmer in an orchestrated protest photo-op at a protest, not socially distancing, when she was nearly as draconian in her enforcement of lockdowns.

I can’t think of any reasonable conception of justice or rights where this ranking makes sense. It seems to me like the right to be with a family member as they die is stronger than the right to protest. Indeed, this strikes me as blindingly obvious. And yet public health officials don’t seem to see things that way. I don’t know why, so I wrote up this blog post to try and see if I could come up with something that at least sort of makes sense.

To begin, the protests cannot be justified on the grounds that they’ll save enough lives from white supremacy to balance out the virus risk. It is not clear we will see big policy changes from these protests that will actually reduce deaths enough to compensate for the increased risk of virus exposure. Instead, the argument needs to point to some other good that the protests provide. So I’ll set this point aside.

Here’s the best I can do in terms of explaining the ranking. Most leading public health officials are secular egalitarians. They think there is no God or anything like God, that science tells us more or less how the world is, and that there is a prime, fundamental, transcendent moral value: human equality, and justice understood as preserving equality. Most other values are secondary to preserving egalitarian relations between persons. On this view, protesting racism and injustice is a way of realizing the value of equality, and so participates in the sublime, the highest good. The pursuit of the highest good can justify the imposition of health risks on others.

Operating your business isn’t sublime on this view. Indeed, Mill, Keynes, and Rawls all denigrated commercial activity as central to a worthwhile life, so viewing running a business as fundamental to a person’s conception of the good is in some respects uncommon on the left (though seeing being a laborer as fundamental is quite common). So keeping your small business going gets trumped by public health, but protesting inequality is holy and so trumps just about everything else, at least at some margin of health risk.

Somehow realizing equality must also be more important than being near loved ones when they die. Perhaps on the secular egalitarian worldview, maybe death is just the end of life and not something to treat as an especially sacred event? Maybe it is nice to be able to be with someone as they did, but perhaps not transcendent or sublime?

To me, this is a highly idiosyncratic and obviously mistaken ranking of values. I also don’t think it is the view held by the sincere secular egalitarians I know. But it seems to be the revealed preference ranking of many on the high-status left, including public health officials. I gather from friends that protest organizers on the ground are doing their best to implement public health guidelines, and I believe them. But the leaders seem to be failing us.

This is really the best I can do to make these seemingly inconsistent actions philosophically coherent. But you have to attribute really strange value rankings to public health officials and politicians who discouraged funeral attendance but who are actually attending the marches.

I have good friends who view the world through a darker lens. They’ll say that what egalitarian elites really value is looking good and virtuous in front of others, and protesting gives them an irresistible opportunity to do so. These aren’t people with weird value scales, they’re bad or morally mediocre people who care more about how others see them than any moral principle. I try to avoid seeing the world in this way, but my “weird value scale” explanation honestly feels like a stretch.

Perhaps you can do better.

Low Trust America – Cops and Protestors in a Low Trust Equilibrium

What happened in Minneapolis is a trust disaster. Due to the legacy of racism, black Americans don’t trust legal officials. Indeed, only 17% of black Americans say *most people* can be trusted, in contrast with 46% of whites. I would also bet that white cops trust black Americans relatively little, though getting good survey data on this would be next to impossible. From studying trust, my sense is that police distrust leads some police officers to use excessive force, either out of fear or disdain for untrusted blacks.

Excessive force arguably leads black Americans to resent police action more, and trust the police even less. Accordingly, mutual distrust is a social equilibrium in inner cities, and this tense environment creates the powder-keg social contexts we’ve seen all over the country. That is what it’s like living in a low trust society – conflict can erupt at any time.

Now for some speculation. My guess is that low trust equilibrium was disrupted in the past because black Americans had more high status leaders who believed in non-violence, or at least who believed in non-violence more strongly than most people. The willingness of black protestors to avoid violence even in situations when it would be justified was a way of signaling honesty, integrity, and conviction. That made them harder to dismiss and ignore, and so harder to distrust. That’s not to say they weren’t mistrusted! But it was one way to extricate a community from a low trust equilibrium.

This is totally unfair to oppressed groups, but given how I think about building trust, it seems to me a more effective strategy than more violent protesting.

You build trust by playing cooperate when others expect you to defect; and if you are prepared to be non-violence in more cases than people expect, and at great cost to yourself, you can help extricate your community from a low trust equilibrium. But I worry we have lost the moral basis for deeply committed non-violence.

Unlike fifty years ago, we don’t have many national leaders who believe in systematic non-violence, or at least who are known for holding that position. Somehow older generations have not passed on a strong belief in non-violence to younger people.

I don’t know why this is. But my suspicion is that it is hard to motivate radical non-violence outside of religious belief systems where one thinks that evil people will ultimately get what they deserve, either through divine or karmic punishment. You can get radical non-violence more easily from Christianity or Buddhism or Hinduism than you can from secular doctrines because those who suffer from being non-violent can psychologically compensate themselves. For they believe that punishment and vengeance are the job or someone or something else. People will get what they deserve, but not from me!

Last year I wrote a reference piece on Christian anarchism, which led me to read a lot of Christian arguments for pacifism. They were better than I thought, so I’ve been moving in a pacifist direction. But if it weren’t for Jesus’ teachings and behavior, I’m not sure I’d be very convinced that radical non-violence was the way to go. It helps me to know that, in the end, justice will be done.

Of course, other reforms can help restore trust, especially giving police incentive to behave in a more trustworthy fashion. But a strong religion-level commitment to non-violence may help too.

The Later Rawls for Economists in 500 Words

I like economists, and I like trying to talk philosophy with them, even though they often find it boring and irritating. And they don’t like Rawls, but they tend to only know parts of A Theory of Justice. You know what part I mean – the rational choice stuff that they think is too simple and all wrong (and, honestly, isn’t the best).

What I’d like to do today is outline, in a simplistic and outrageously rough way, the later Rawls for economists, the Rawls I like most. Here’s the basic idea. In TJ, Rawls argued that people should be able to endorse complying with just institutions as good for them. But he later said he assumed too much agreement on the good life: people’s utility functions were modeled too similarly. So in Political Liberalism, Rawls lets peoples’ utility functions vary a lot. Now, these aren’t just any utility functions; they include the satisfaction one gets from getting one’s way morally and politically. So the utility functions contain moral commitments. Economists don’t like that, but utility analysis is pretty devoid of psychological content in itself, so there’s no reason it can’t be applied in the way I suggest.

Rawls’s goal, then, is to show that his conception of justice is a Pareto improvement vis-a-vis other conceptions of justice, especially illiberal ones, at least for the utility functions of a limited class of persons who are reasonable. Economists, you can understand reasonable people as those who play assurance games when they could play prisoner’s dilemmas.

So an overlapping consensus is just a bargaining point between people with heterogeneous utility functions, but among people who play assurance games, so the bargain can seem reciprocal and not based on mere threat advantage.

In short, a public justification for a law obtains when the law is an improvement in utility for each reasonable utility function and worse for none. Public justification is a Pareto concept.

Public reasoning, on the other hand, is about signaling. See, we might not know if some law or policy is publicly justified, so we need a way to convey that to others. Rawls thought we could talk in terms of shared values, or give arguments derived from what we agree on, and that way we could convince each other a public justification obtains. When a public justification obtains, it becomes common knowledge through signaling, and a publicity condition is met. Then people can see a point in complying with the relevant legal requirements. It is better for them to comply, they know it is better for others to comply, and they know that they and others are prepared to cooperate so long as others do.

The result is a well-ordered society, one where a conception of justice is stable, based on the moral considerations that comprise each person’s utility function. Reasonable people are often defined as prepared to comply with the rules, which is why Political Liberalism can be seen as a kind of ideal theory, for better or worse.

The Common Good Doesn’t Help Us Decide

Integralists and their fellow travelers continue to drive much online discussion in legal and political theory. They propose what many have proposed in the past, that social institutions be structured so as to promote the common good. They have a very specific conception of the common good, but most of the negative online responses to their proposal haven’t focused on their having the wrong conception of the common good, but on basing institutional structures on the common good of any variety.

There are two sources of skepticism. The most common objection is that there is no common good or we can’t know it, and so attempts to base institutions around the common good are really just masks for the will to power.

Another objection is pragmatic: power corrupts, and we shouldn’t empower political institutions in particular to promote the common good.

My preferred objection, advanced in Must Politics Be War?, is that, while we can know the common good, and in some cases think that political institutions could promote it, free, equal, and reasonable people disagree about what the common good is, and so imposing one view of the common good on others is likely to undermine the basis for social trust and respect for diverse persons in large-scale societies where people have come to trust each other.

But let’s suppose all these objections fail. Assume that there is a common good, we know what it is, we can overcome pragmatic objections, and that we should promote the true good even if some reasonable people are mistaken about it. Shouldn’t we then base society on the common good?

Perhaps. But a problem looms. The common good is supposed to be distinct from the aggregate good. It isn’t just the sum of the good of each person. This is how defenders of the common good avoid consequentialism and the perverse trade-offs that consequentialism allows. But that means there is some principle internal to the concept of the common good that forbids certain kinds of treatment of individual persons that would or could maximize the aggregate good.

In my view, those principles are grounded in the dignity of the person and the norms implicit in the kinds of relationships we want to have with other persons, in particular the moral relationships of love, friendship, and trust. These are what Jerry Gaus has called principle-grounded values. To be a good friend, and so to achieve the good of friendship, friends must be honest with one another. Honesty becomes a kind of deontic reason: if we value friendship, then we are prohibited from deceiving our friends, at least in the normal course of our friendship. So we can only get the teleological value if we follow the deontic principle.

I think the common good is itself a principle-grounded value. The common good is a kind of close social relation, and it is partly constituted by principles prohibiting treating others in certain ways even if doing so would result in more good. That means to fully specify the common good, we may have to articulate a series of rights claims. But we can’t appeal to the common good to ground those rights, since that would put the cart before the horse.

So I think the common good is not a master normative concept. It certainly has some of its own content, but we cannot fully specify the common good without reference to deontic constraints.

In Must Politics Be War? I argued that a principle of public justification captures the series of deontic reasons that we must be responsive to in order to maintain relations of social trust. But if we adopt a principle of public justification, then we must respect traditional liberal rights, because only liberal institutions can be publicly justified. I may be wrong about the details – I probably am! – but we must do that careful work before we can appeal to the common good. And so the common good doesn’t really help us to decide between liberal and non-liberal arrangements.

Against (Most) Religious Exemptions for Worshippers

I’m on record supporting a wide range of religious exemptions for all kinds of people. And I only sometimes oppose them. But I am now concerned, quite concerned, that demands for religious exemptions from lockdown policies risk imposing harms on others. When religious worshippers gather together in large numbers, they can easily spread the virus, and risk infecting hundreds and thousands of others.

In other posts, and some articles, I’ve outlined what I take to be the principles that license religious exemptions. I think religious exemptions from a law morally ought granted whenever the following four conditions are met:

(1) The law is endorsed by the subset of the population whose support makes the law democratically legitimate (something like a majority).

(2) The law places a substantial burden on the integrity or conscience of religious citizens (or secular citizens), or considerably sets back their fundamental interests.

(3) The exemption is feasible. Government can detect burdened citizens, exempt them without enormous costs, and typically root out fraudulent exemption claims.

(4) The exemption economizes on third party harms.

All of these principles are fairly straightforward (but if you want more clarification, see the post linked above). The key in this case is principle (4). On my view, religious exemptions can be restricted if they impose third-party harms or significant risks of third-party harms. The trouble for religious exemptions for large church gatherings is that, under current conditions, such gatherings impose risks of third-party harms because they create sites for transmission of COVID. By refusing to engage in social distancing, these worshippers put others at risk. Now, people of faith have extremely strong reason to worship, but they don’t necessarily have strong reason to worship in physical proximity to one another during a pandemic since they can worship in other ways, and the leaders of many religious organizations have created other ways for them to do so (such as drive-thru services and online services, both of which I have benefited from) and strictly directed them not to attend services in person.

So it is not clear to me that people of faith have sufficiently strong reasons to reject these restrictions because their faith does not require that they meet. So, strictly speaking, the restrictions are a substantial burden, but the risk of infecting people, at least in certain areas, is a much greater burden.

But here’s the trouble: we don’t know exactly how much risk we’re imposing on others by gathering to worship, but we have a much better sense of the concrete losses to churches and parishioners for not being able to worship. Churches, like any other institution, can lose money, but the bigger issue is that there’s an enormous loss in being isolated from fellow believers. So the challenge for covid policymakers is to try and figure out whether restrictions should be applied broadly or targeted by region.

I can see a case to be made that in certain sparsely populated parts of the country that the restrictions on church gathering be more modest, whereas in large cities, the rationale for restrictions is stronger. I’m not in a position to make those calls, of course, but I think the principles I’ve laid out are the right ones. In general, we default in favor of religious liberty, but when exemptions pose third-party harms and when the legal restrictions don’t strictly violate the conscience of adherents of the faith, restrictions on church gatherings can be justified rather straightforwardly.

Are Public Schools the Cause of Secularization?

Lyman Stone has just published a massive new article on secularization in the United States and much of Western Europe that’s worth a read. But I’ll summarize some of his key points since you may not want to read the whole sixty page piece. First, some choice quotes about where we stand.

I. Religiosity in the United States Over Time

Stone begins:

By any measure, religiosity in America is declining. As this report will show, since peaking in 1960s, the share of American adults attending any religious service in a typical week has fallen from 50% to 35%, while the share claimed as members by any religious body has fallen from over 75% to about 62%. Finally, the share of Americans who self-identify or report being affiliated with any religion has fallen from over 95% to around 75%.

However, 1960 really was a peak in American history:

At the dawn of the American republic in the 1780s, probably just a third of Americans were a member in any religious body, and just a fifth could be found at church on a given Sunday. [In some ways, the US is more religious today] than it was two centuries ago — and indeed at any point between 1750 and 1930.

So we are less religious than we once were, but we’re far from a historical low. And we haven’t always been a stand-out, internationally. Between 1800 and 1950, the US was not especially religious relative to other countries, but it didn’t secularize as fast, which has made it exceptionally religious today.

Interestingly, our church attendance rates between 1930 and 1990 were really stable; the US fell from 62% to 59%. So in that sense, we didn’t grow much more secular over that period. A lot of our religiosity patterns are long-standing. I was also surprised to find this is true in other countries as well. In 1930, only 14% of Swedes went to church regularly, a figure that fell to just 11% by 1990.

We people of faith are down, but not out.

II. The Causes of Secularization

Stone doesn’t just present interesting data on religiosity. He also discusses the literature on the determinants of religiosity:

Research on determinants of religiosity has found two contrasting results. First, explicitly sectarian governance, such as having a state religion, tends to reduce religiosity, because it reduces the competitiveness and diversity of the religious marketplace. Second, expansions in government service provision and especially increasingly secularized control of education significantly drive secularization and can account for virtually the entire increase in secularization around the developed world. The decline in religiosity in American in America is not the product of a natural change in preferences, but an engineered outcome of clearly identifiable policy choices in the past.

Religiosity is determined early in life; Stone says that kids “raised without religion tend to become nonreligious adults, and vice versa.” And, fascinatingly, “[c]hildhood religiosity was heavily affected by government spending on education and, to a lesser degree, government spending on old-age pensions.” [I don’t know why the latter would decrease religiosity, but my guess is that less government spending on pensions means more religious grandparents living with their grandkids.] Similarly, “societies that spent more public money on education were less religious.”

It also seems to be true that having a religion monopolist reduces religiosity, which I think isn’t terribly surprising. Monopolies can be sluggish, and state monopolies most sluggish still.

Relatedly, here’s what didn’t matter.

Across many countries and a long time span, they found that higher educational attainment did not predict lower religiosity: More and less educated people were similarly religious. Nor did they find that industrialized, urban life reduces religiosity: A more urban and industrialized population was associated with greater religiosity. Theories that religion has declined because urbanization is hostile to religiosity–or because modern, educated people are inherently skeptical of religion–get no support in the actual historical record.

Worship styles don’t seem related to religiosity either. It’s unclear whether religious competition increases religiosity. In the US, more religious diversity means more religious volunteering, and more religiously diverse states have higher average rages of church attendance but the association is not that strong. On the other hand, sometimes religious competition leads to political changes, such as the Reformation generating the large secular states that played a role in secularization.

Also of interest is that attempts to discriminate in favor of certain branches of Christianity probably didn’t help, and arguably hurt. For instance, the tools that some religious people used against others (Protestants against Catholics) like Blaine Amendments are being used by secular legal elites against all religious schools.

III. Religion as a Club Good

Stone argues that religious affiliation occurs when a religious group offers club goods – services to members that can only be provided to members by the group as a whole. You can exclude people from a club good, so it’s not a public good, but the club has to work together to produce the relevant good. Historically, religious groups have provided all kinds of critical social services on the condition that members follow their rules, goods that are limited to members but can only be provided by a large group whose individual contributions may not matter much on their own.

An extensive social democratic state can compete with religious service provision, often successfully because the government can force people to purchase its services, and provide it to others without requiring anything of them. As a result, the social democratic state can generate a crowding out effect. As the elderly rely on state pensions, they rely less on their churches, and so play less of a role, contribute less time, don’t set examples of piety and devotion, etc. And as the government takes over more and more of education, children are less and less exposed to religious education and religious people.

Another connection is that marriage increases religiosity, but since education is delaying marriage, the effect is delayed.

Stone follows many others in arguing that churches that water down their requirements tend to perform worse than those that are more demanding. Churches grow, he argues, “when their members are deeply committed to them” but if there’s nothing to deeply commit to, there’s not much point.

IV. Increasing American Religiosity

If you think that, generally speaking, religiosity is good for persons as I do, these are lamentable trends. But if Stone is right, there are policy solutions to some of the problems. The main thing to do is to weaken the government’s role in education, expand voucher programs, support home schooling, and (Stone argues) make it easier to build churches and schools closer together.

Religious progressives, people of faith who favor an extensive welfare state, should be concerned. If the social democratic state functions as a kind of huge, unfair competitor to your religious group (because the state can provide services with force, whereas churches typically cannot, and on a massive scale), you may have to choose between your faith and your politics. Religious integralists should also not be especially pleased, since they favor religious monopoly.

Why are Trump Supporters Demonstrating Against the Economic Lockdowns?

We are starting to see more polarization of opinion about the lockdowns, with Republicans returning to their original skepticism about the dangers of the virus. If a Democrat were President, this would be unsurprising. But Trump is in office, and people tend to approve and trust government more when their favored presidential candidate is in power. So what’s going on? Here are some hypotheses. I’m not satisfied with most of them.

1. Trump supporters trust the government and public health officials less than non-Trump supporters, and so are less likely to believe in official recommendations. Problem: there’s lots of skepticism about public health in minority communities, especially in the black community (and with good reason in some cases). But we don’t see protests there.

2. Trump supporters are disproportionately bearing the economic costs of the lockdowns, given that they tend to hold jobs that do not require college degrees. Problem: this is also a feature of many minority communities, and minority communities are getting harder hit by fatalities than rural whites.

3. Trump supporters sense Trump’s displeasure with the lockdowns, and hypothesize that he’s being misled by experts. This is where all the #fireFauci stuff is coming from. In general, Trump is sending mixed messages, at best, and people in his tribe are responding accordingly. Problem: I’d expect more ambivalence in their views if this were true.

4. Trump supporters are deeply anti-elitist in general, moreso than people on the left, and since elites are supporting lockdowns, Trump supporters are opposing them. Problem: there are anti-elitist leftists. Heard of Berniebros?

5. Trump supporters are seeing others members of the red tribe protesting, but the protests are being driven by political groups looking to expose weaknesses in Democratic state governors and create a groundswell of support for GOP candidates. Trump supporters then infer that their group is generally skeptical of the lockdowns and concerned with the economic costs and act accordingly. Problem: But why are people so eager to agree with the protestors in the first place? The resentment seems genuine, not like astroturf.

Hypotheses I’m more satisfied with:

6. Conservative and libertarian intellectual and policy elites chafe more at the greatly expanded power of government and the restrictiveness of the lockdowns, and have been challenging a lot of the flawed models and data shaping elite opinion. This is trickling down to grassroots people on the right through right-wing media.

And:

7. Distrust of Mass Media: Trump supporters disproportionately distrust mass media, which is to say they don’t really trust it at all. But non-Trump supporting anti-elitists, vaccine-skeptics, etc. tend to trust what the mass media tells them. Since mass media is largely conveying a pro-lockdown message, Trump supporters are inclined to disbelieve them or even believe the opposite.

Anything I’m missing?