June 24, 2013
Mark Littlewood recently called for the names of benefit recipients to be made publicly available. Let’s imagine what that kind of world would be like.
There was a sign on his window again. Every morning when he opened his curtains, it would always be there, blocking out the light. He ripped it down every night, but it was always put back up. Even worse, it’d started changing every day. Originally the sign was just £2,953.60, but now it’d started rising by £8.11, every day. He considered just leaving it up this time, but Kev felt very strongly that this would be letting the bastards win.
It was his neighbor. He’d caught him at it a few times, coming back in from another fruitless job hunt, finding John slapping paste onto the glass and placing the various sheets of paper along a carefully measured line. His balding head bent over in intense concentration, John actually brought a level along with him to ensure that the sign was perfectly aligned. Such fastidious attention to detail doubtless explained why John had been able to keep his database job when the call centre downsized.
Every confrontation went the same way. Kev would yell out, and John would turn around with a vicious grin on his face. He’d then turn back to his task, aware than Kev could do nothing at all. Kev didn’t own his house, and his landlord was perfectly happy for scroungers like Kev to have their shame displayed on his property, even though he’d made his fortune on the back of the diminishing pool of Government housing benefit. When Kev had first complained, the landlord had laughed him out of his office and added John as a Facebook friend.
It had been so different, only two years ago. John and Kev had been colleagues, although never friends. Then the banks had gone down again. Prime Minister Littlewood, as he now was, had told the public that the problem wasn’t the banks, it was the Bank, and had come to power on the back of a promise to scrap the Bank of England and prevent credit bubbles ever happening again. Now there was no interest rate, only multiple competing interest rates, but somehow things hadn’t picked up. The papers were saying that this was all a necessary market correction and there was nothing the Government could or indeed should do.
But this correction seemed to be taking a very long time. People were getting angry, and so the Government had created The Register. It was a big online database containing the name and address of every benefit claimant in the UK, along with the amount they were claiming. Initially it had been an identity fraudsters’ paradise, with hundreds of thousands of people finding they’d lost their benefits to a range of criminal gangs. The Government claimed they’d sorted all this out, but Kev kept hearing stories about old ladies found dead in their flats because their pensions had stopped and they didn’t know how to look for help.
The call centre Kev and John worked in had let hundreds of its staff go. Lots of new centres were opening in Uganda, apparently, as part of this African Boom. Kev was happy for them, but there seemed to be a great deal less work around here, and every job he went for he seemed to be competing against people with far higher qualifications than him. Shortly after he left, John had started pasting signs on his window.
He should leave, he supposed, and look for work elsewhere. He really wanted to – the day after The Register was extended to people who used the NHS John had put a sign on his window saying ‘Treatment for herpes – £30′ because Kev had gone to the doctor to get cream for a coldsore. But if he left he’d count as Voluntarily Homeless and under the very strict new restrictions on benefits he wouldn’t be able to get a place to live anywhere else without already having a job. His benefits just covered the cost of living, and certainly didn’t extend to the train or bus ticket he’d need to attend interviews. He felt trapped.
Turning away from the window, he switched on the radio and started to make breakfast. The Today programme was playing, and the Prime Minister was on.
“…The Register has been a fantastic success in incentivising people to get into work and letting the public know exactly how their hard-earned money is being spent. That’s why today I’m pleased to announce the logical extension of this programme.
“From today, all benefit claimants, young and old, will be required to wear a yellow armband on which will be written the precise amount they claim from the State every year. When you meet a benefit claimant on the street, you should know exactly who they are so you can tell them what you think. Only through transparency and public information campaigns like this one will everyone be able to take part in monitoring how taxpayers’ money is spent. Remember, cutting spending helps the economy – and that’s what this initiative would help to do.”
Kev swore. Things were about to get a lot worse.
August 1, 2012
Today, returning to blogging after a brief interval while I settle into my new job, I’d like to be a bit naughty and compare Chris’s two most recent posts, on Corporate Crime and the Rightness of Romney. The first concerns the role of incentives in law-breaking amongst our corporate friends, making the clear point that for any given legal enforcement framework there is a level of law-breaking for which the returns are greater than the costs (i.e. fines/imprisonment). We should therefore expect that level of law-breaking to obtain. Furthermore, this lesson applies to the whole of society too: criminals, like everyone else, take a rational approach to their law-breaking based on the costs and benefits of doing so. The Daily Mail assumption that criminals are simply evil is not particularly useful in understanding actual criminal behaviour.
The second covers the relationship between culture and economics, and briefly reviews a number of studies and arguments which link social virtues and cultural differences to economic growth. Certain norms, such as trust, individualism and wealth being seen as a good in itself appear to have a positive effect on long-term economic development. Culture is not simply the domain of politics, but flows from a variety of sources, including religion. This presents an interesting challenge to policy-makers, because as Chris says:
“On the one hand there are the (dwindling) number of economists who think that long-run growth is a matter of technocratic fixes, of establishing the right policies and institutions. On the other hand, there are politicians who think that culture can be changed by talk and wishful thinking. The truth is more interesting than either group realizes.”
Policy by itself has only limited impacts on culture, with other actors – and history itself – having a much stronger influence. This is interesting, because the implications of the findings mentioned above is that there is likely an ideal set or family of virtues that are conducive to economic growth if they are held as social norms; certainly, Chris refers to the claim that bourgeois values are conducive to growth.
For policy-makers or other actors looking to magnify growth, therefore, the promotion of this set of virtues would be helpful. Now, the constant advocacy of supply-side solutions to our current economic difficulties by a certain section of the debate – including those currently giving succour to Naomi Klein-esque conspiracy theories – would point to the peculiar bundle of virtues bound up with Ayn Rand-style libertarianism as being conducive to growth. In a world with little regulation beyond contracts between individuals, virtues which demand that one be proud of one’s own efforts and not engage in force or fraud to secure those of anyone else are most useful under such an understanding of economics; if markets are always the best way of delivering growth* then virtues most likely to lead to totally unfettered markets will help.
In contrast, virtues that include caring for others when one judges them to be incapable for caring for themselves will encourage the public advocacy of regulation on certain economic matters, as well as the setting aside of a portion of the wealth of individuals to non-productive uses, including, say, looking after the elderly. This will be less conducive to growth on this economic model.
However, what’s left out of this picture – and the reason I draw the contrast between Chris’s two posts – is that economic circumstances influence culture in turn. For example, for certain demographics file-sharing and piracy could be considered to be a norm. This is, effectively, the incorporation of crime into cultural mores because the benefits (free consumer goods) are much less than the cost (risk of being caught stealing). And so, you have a section of society actively agitating for their cultural norm to become legally recognised too.
Under Rand-style libertarianism, the ordinary worker is supposed to be content to be allowed to purchase goods and services from those with a greater capacity for production, to be content with a lowly lot in life and to be entirely dependent on their capacity to produce. In a hypothetical society in which everyone signed up to those norms, it is difficult to see how long those norms would last in the face of the overwhelmingly disadvantaged in that society agitating for a greater share of the wealth. Such agitation, even if illegal, would be rational: the benefits that may accrue would be far higher than the cost. Any libertarian society – or libertarian culture – would be fundamentally unstable as a result. Given the shift in attitudes towards the rich over the relatively small economic differences caused by the recession, it is difficult to see how anyone could claim otherwise.
Cultural norms both influence and are influenced by economic circumstances, and politics is influenced by and influences both. All three are deeply intertwined, and any useful understanding of society must consider them all.
*Tim does not claim this, but some of his fellow travellers certainly do.
July 10, 2012
Over on Crooked Timber, Bertram, Robin and Gourevitch (BRG) have put up an interesting argument claiming that the commonly understood objective of libertarian ideology, freedom (defined as the absence of coercion) does not necessarily imply that a market economy is the best way of organising society. This is for two reasons.
Firstly, the cornerstone of a market economy, the freedom to enter into contracts of your choosing, is not necessarily freedom-maximising as it is entirely possible to sign away your freedoms when signing a contract. Whether contracts are freedom-maximising is therefore an empirical question not amenable to philosophical analysis, and cannot be used as an ideological plank.
Secondly, an economy in which the price of labour is its value in the marketplace permits coercion within the workplace; changing jobs is not a frictionless process and the cost of changing jobs can be sufficient in particular contexts (e.g. debt, supporting a family) to prevent a worker from selling their labour elsewhere. This permits out-contract coercion on the part of the employer; the example used by BRG is an employer demanding a female worker sleep with him or lose her job.
The above are sufficient to demonstrate that libertarian principles are not necessarily freedom-maximising, which would appear to defeat what is commonly held to be the point of the ideology. However, over on Bleeding Heart Libertarians, Matt Zwolinski thinks differently:
“I think the idea that libertarianism can be understood as fundamentally about freedom, simpliciter, is a mistake. It is an even graver mistake to suppose that libertarianism is committed to the maximization of freedom. […] What makes restrictions of freedom acceptable, and what differentiates the acceptable from the unacceptable infringements of freedom, is a matter of some dispute among libertarians themselves. For neo-Lockean libertarians like Robert Nozick, freedom as a moral category is strictly subordinate to a prior theory of rights – my freedom to sell my kidney is worthy of political protection because it is compatible with my right of self-ownership and violates no one else’s rights; my freedom to swing my fist at your face is not. For consequentialist libertarians, freedom will only be worthy of political protection to the extent that this is compatible with the underlying teleological theory. But no libertarian, as far as I am aware, holds that mere freedom as such is the core value.“
If you asked the philosopher in the street what the core value of libertarianism was, I’d be amazed if ‘freedom’ didn’t make up a majority of the responses. However, the above represents a wholesale retreat from the value, into the domains of rights and consequences. In order to spell out what this means, let’s consider the three questions that would be asked by three groups of people when considering how to organise society, the Neo-Lockean Libetarians, the Consequentialist Libertarians, and the liberals (small ‘l’, most definitely):
1) How do we organise society to best protect a given set of rights?
2) How do we organise society to best achieve a given set of goals?
3) How do we organise society to maximise freedom?
Now, the position being advanced by Zwolinksi is that libertarians are asking the first two questions, rather than the third, and that freedom (of various sorts) is frequently found to be the answer to them both. The problem is that in both cases freedom as a value is secondary – if there is a better way of organising society identified in response to those questions, then freedom will be eschewed.
As a result, the root of libertarianism is applied incorrectly: the philosophy is only incidentally related to liberty, and even then only on a empirical basis. If a way is found of protecting property rights that involves surrendering some civil liberties, then it’s possible that some libertarians will support it. If a way is found of maximising prosperity that involves shackling people unable to pay their debts to some kind of work engine, then it’s possible that some libertarians will support it. By allowing the name ‘libertarianism’ to be associated with a creed that supports liberty only as a matter of likelihood, our political discourse is tarnished. I would therefore call on anyone discussing the subject to eschew the term in favour of something more suited. I would opt for Possessionism.
March 6, 2012
Those of you who, like me, find the Marxism*-style cult of libertarianism fascinating will doubtless be aware of the escalating conflict between the Cato Institute and those renowned champions of planet-raping, the Koch empire.The Cato Institute, a libertarian think-tank, is attempting to resist its wholesale takeover by the Kochs, who own the majority of the shares of the Institute, and are seeking to turn it into a Republican meme factory. Which of course they’re entitled to do, because it’s their property.
Everyone who’s ever pointed out that libertarianism doesn’t work in the real world is now pointing and laughing. Much as I’d like to devote several hundred words to how hilarious this is, I direct you towards Noahpinion‘s piece, which does much the same thing.
*It would work in real life if only people were how we think they should be!
December 13, 2010
Localism was one of the reasons I got into politics; the obsession that the Labour Government (and before that, the Thatcher Government) had with emasculating local decision-making bodies was deeply opposed to some of my core beliefs. It was one of the reasons I joined the Liberal Democrats, and one of the reasons I wasn’t too upset about the Coalition, despite despising Tories. The Coalition Agreement contained a strong commitment to a Localism Bill, early details of which have been released today.
For me, localism is about human-sized decision-making; choices made a level where the individual can have most influence. There is therefore much to welcome about the Localism Bill, including the general power of competence, the Community Right to Challenge and additional pay transparency. However, the more interesting features of it are the reforms to planning and local referenda, which in themselves represent an interesting move away from the sort of strong libertarianism espoused by the Hannans of this world.
Put simply, the new Neighbourhood Plans mean that your neighbours will now have a strong say over how you dispose of your property. You will find it difficult to do many things to your house or your land unless you can win the approval of your neighbours. Businesses, in particular development businesses such as those who constitute the membership of my workplace, will have to spend vast sums campaigning to convince people that they should be allowed to build in their local area. It’s a wholesale push of the responsibility to secure public support for development onto business and away from the Government.
Giving other people such a hold over your property is anathema to libertarians, and it’ll be interesting to see what Conservative examples of the type make of it. Hannan appears to be in favour, his libertarianism seemingly in favour of state intervention as long as it’s at the local level. It’s difficult to see how you can make a principled case out of that.
October 30, 2010
Part 27iii of blogging my way through my first reading of Atlas Shrugged. You can find the first part here.
Chapter 27: ‘This is John Galt Speaking’
This section of Galt’s speech is largely concerned with how clever he was in recognising that the evil socialists who took over the 20th Century Motor Company were out to destroy him by converting him into their property; enslaving his mind in the process. This bit is actually an interesting indictment of libertarian thought: it demonstrates that libertarianism arises less from a wish to be free of the state and more a wish to be free from being responsible for the consequences of your choices on other people. This is interesting, inasmuch as it’s inversion of the charge that Rand lays against socialists: they wish to abnegate on their responsibility to deal with the consequences of their choices with respect to reality; libertarians wish to do the same with respect to the other. In this sense, ‘libertarianism’ may be inappropriate as a lable for this creed; ‘radical solipsism’ might be more appropriate.
She then continues her brief historical interlude by talking about how the Dark Ages were when the mind went on strike. Or went to Byzantium, perhaps, but we’ll skip over her utter lack of anything even approaching historical knowledge.
Rand then says: “There are two sides to every issue: one side is right and the other is wrong, but the middle is always evil.” This is interesting, inasmuch as it’s a radical departure from Aristotle’s Doctrine of the Mean, which states that the virtuous life is lived in between extremes of sin and arrogant righteousness. It’s possible that this demonstrates that Rand doesn’t realise she’s actually advocating a theory of ethics with moral components bolted on. Certainly, the rather Manichean approach she takes to the morality she judges to be her opponent would indicate this; yet more evidence that either Rand is being purposively obfuscatory or simply doesn’t understand what she’s saying. It also explains why her characters tend to one extreme or another; there is no sliding scale between extremes in AtlasWorld.
We then have the surprisingly broad statement:
“Do you ask if it’s ever proper to help another man? No—if he claims it as his right or as a moral duty that you owe him. Yes—if such is your own desire based on your own selfish pleasure in the value of his person and his struggle.”
This could mean practically anything; knowledge that one receives altruistic pleasure from helping other could constitute just cause to, say rob from the rich to give to the poor. This is another example of the internal inconsistency of Rand’s philosophy; one can use parts of it to argue for any course of action one chooses that may run counter to other parts.
Rand has an interesting pop at human rights:
“The doctrine that ‘human rights’ are superior to ‘property rights’ simply means that some human beings have the right to make property out of others; since the competent have nothing to gain from the incompetent, it means the right of the incompetent to own their betters and to use them as productive cattle.”
If nothing else, this explains the antipathy of the Right to human rights; clearly, they’re tantamount to socialism under this view.
We now come to Rand’s theory of Government:
“The only proper purpose of a government is to protect man’s rights, which means: to protect him from physical violence. A proper government is only a policeman, acting as an agent of man’s self-defense, and, as such, may resort to force only against those who start the use of force. The only proper functions of a government are: the police, to protect you from criminals; the army, to protect you from foreign invaders; and the courts, to protect your property and contracts from breach or fraud by others, to settle disputes by rational rules, according to objective law.”
There’s something interesting here, something buried so deep in the psyche and history that Rand, with her paltry knowledge of the subject, quite possibly would never have been able to dig out.
Being in the army is not like other jobs. While mercenaries do exist, throughout human history they have always been in the minority of armed forces, and every state has seen fit to maintain an army of its own. Why should this be? Surely, if this libertarian view of the market is correct, states should regularly be using hired forces in combat, the market for such producing stronger and more effective forces than state-backed armies.
Rand gives us the answer, although she does not know it. I gave her description of her opposing morality in the previous post as ‘A moral system which applauds the surrender of value for no return reaches its apotheosis in the ultimate surrender of values which is death’.
Her morality is based on the notion of trading; hence, the transfer of value for no return is anathema. Her concept of value is tied into living and existence – for her, zero is death. And herein lies the answer to the above: there can be nothing worth receiving in return if your offer includes the possibility of death. One can express this mathematically: any number, any value multiplied by zero is always zero. It will only ever be worth someone’s while to join the army if they are threatened with death or their return is somehow infinite. We can therefore assume that any properly libertarian army will surrender at the first possibility of defeat; any value specified in a contract cannot overcome the zero equation.
There is, however, something that can motivate one to join the army, and that is the unconditional. Only unconditional love can motivate a father to fight to the death for his family; only unconditional love can motivate a man to fight to the death for his nation. It is worth pointing out that the social policies implemented in the aftermath of the Second World War were aimed at ‘winning the peace’; demonstrating to the returning troops that the state they’d fought for was, indeed, worth dying for. This is because they now represented the conditions for the possibility of that state remaining existent; economies tend to be rearranged to serve those responsible for their survival. In this sense, Rand’s version of libertarianism does not reflect America in the 50s so much as a strongly isolationist America that did not require the mobilisation of its population to defend it, in which the industrialists did represent the grounds on which that economy progressed. The general rightward trend in world politics can be seen as representative of the fact that the advent of individualised weapons of mass destruction means that the masses are no longer required to defend the state, indeed, they have become a liability in this regard. If one wished to be really suspicious, one could argue that the Right’s deep and abiding love of Trident has less to do with an uncertain future and more to do with its placing of the defence of the realm in the hands of the elite and not the masses, with the consequent economic effects.
Rand goes on to point out that the economic success of an enterprise is driven not by the workers within but by the mind that designed the machines and identified the goal, thus providing the conditions for the possibility of the enterprise. My use of that Kantian term indicates that I think Rand is partway right here, but she ignores the aggregate judgements made by workers employed by that mind, who add to the value of the enterprise. It is not a single judging mind that makes a company, but many; semi-skilled and unskilled workers use their minds too.
We then have Rand’s indictment of state-funded science as aiming at some non-useful truth and thus employing the mind to identify truths but not functional truths. This is a gross perversion of the mind, apparently. This argument would perhaps have some traction if not for a single word: ‘specialisation’. Blue-sky research may require a lifetime to produce results that are useful in practical terms – to claim that someone is evil because their work does not produce such during their lifetime is just stupid.
Rand then calls on the remaining ‘minds’ in the world to set up their own libertarian communes and await Galt’s arrival, like the vengeful messiah he is. After a repeat of the libertarian oath: “I swear—by my life and my love of it—that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine,” the chapter thankfully closes.
Part 28 is here.
September 15, 2010
…for property, that is, and it’s one that’s illustrated by his 10-minute rule bill that’s he’s speaking to as I write this. The idea is that the law should be changed to prevent banks from lending out any money you deposit with them without your consent, as legally when you deposit any funds they become the bank’s money. This means that banks can lend out your money even if they don’t have enough money to pay you back. Under Carswell’s scheme, this would be changed to banks being required to ask you if they could lend out your money, and otherwise merely holding on deposit until you collect it.
This notion is called ‘honest money’ and is derived from the work of the Cobden Centre, a libertarian think-tank. And it stands in astonishing contradiction to the rest of libertarian thought; which revolves around the idea that the private sector always knows best and that Government should stay out the interests of private concerns as much as possible. This is a clear state intervention in the banking market, ostensibly on the side of the little guy who’s being taken advantage of by these terrible, terrible banks.
The problem is that banks are a business. They do what they do for profit. Under Carswell’s scheme, say you’re on Jobseeker’s Allowance and are receiving £60 per week. Thanks to the largely free banking system we have in this country, you could immediately deposit that in a bank without incurring any cost. However, under Carswell’s scheme, the bank would incur a cost for taking your money (staff time, processing etc.) but be unable to make a profit on it unless you consented to allow them to lend it out. Why on earth, in that case, would the bank want to handle your money? They’d either charge you a handling fee or simply refuse to take deposits from those who want to retain full rights over their money. In practice, therefore, the £60 would become perhaps £58 per week, unless you gave up your property rights in a way which seems anathema to Carswell.
The upshot is that the little guy would be in the same situation as he is now, as the least well-off can’t afford a handling fee for the use of banks. They’d either be excluded from the financial system altogether or give up their rights. This is a logical consequence of banks being profit-making entities.
This bill seems to be the result of the fetishisation of property rights – the near-worship of property itself – to the point where they overwhelm the interests of the least well-off. But as I’ve said before, that’s what libertarianism is all about.
September 9, 2010
Part 19 of blogging my way through my first reading of Atlas Shrugged. You can find the first part here.
Chapter 19: The Face Without Pain or Fear or Guilt
Another filler chapter, the main point of which appears to be that Rearden discovers that d’Anconia used to be Dagny’s lover and gets angry about it, even though it was, like, twelve years ago dude, and you’re still married to someone else. Rearden was still mad at d’Anconia in any case, as he feels d’Anconia betrayed him by allowing a shipment of copper he purchased from him to be sunk by pirates, even though d’Anconia specifically told him not to deal with his company as he was running it into the ground.
This chapter reminds us once again that Rearden has the emotional maturity of a fourteen-year-old.
The remainder of the chapter sees Dagny rushing to Colorado to talk to the scientist she employed to work on the static energy motor, in order to stop the ‘destroyer’ convincing him to jack it in. This could’ve happened a hundred pages ago, but it’s not really important, as this chapter serves to demonstrate something about Rand’s philosophy that’s been tickling at the back of my mind for ages.
Consider the following paragraphs, firstly an internal monologue from Dagny:
‘You – she thought – whoever you are, whom I have always loved and never found, you whom I expected to see at the end of the rails beyond the horizon, you whose presence I had always felt in the streets of the city and whose world I had wanted to build, it is my love for you that had kept me moving, my love and my hope to reach you and my wish to be worthy of you on the day when I would stand before you face to face. Now I know that I shall never find you-that it is not to be reached or lived-but what is left of my life is still yours, and I will go on in your name, even though it is a name I’ll never learn, I will go on serving you, even though I’m never to win, I will go on, to be worth of you on the day when I would have met you, even though I won’t…’
Now an argument between Dagny and d’Anconia:
“Franciso! … You do understand it, you know what I mean by that kind of man, you see him, too!”
“Oh yes,” he said simply, casually, looking at some point in space within the room, almost as if he were seeing a real person. He added, “Why should you be astonished? You said that we were of his kind once, you and I. We still are. But one of us has betrayed him.”
“You know, Dagny, we were taught that some things belong to God and others to Caesar. Perhaps their God would permit it. But the man you say we’re serving – he does not permit it.”
“There’s to be a second renaissance in the world. I’ll wait for it.”
Anyone who’s even cursorily studied Plato will be clapping their hands at this point. Both Dagny and d’Anconia are paying obeisance to no single man, but rather the Form of the Man of Talent. They worship not the iteration of the form in mankind, but rather the idealisation of it in itself, beyond the world of men. Similarly, anyone familiar with the works of Jesus Christ and his fans will recognise the unmistakeably biblical undertones in the quotes above – a second renaissance after a final conflict between good and evil? A man who takes the place of God as an object of worship?
This explains the bizarre characters of AtlasWorld – the titans, looters and moochers are so divided because they’re iterations of the Forms of Talent, Looting and Mooching; unlike in the real world where such qualities are all present in every person, in AtlasWorld people are divided by their adherence to Forms. It explains Rand’s antipathy towards Kant: Randian ethics are based on something out there in the world (or beyond it in the case of the Forms), which Kant demonstrates is unknowable in itself. Kant’s philosophy gives man the capability of determining what is moral without reference to anything external, based purely upon the way in which he encounters the world. Rand relies upon an external notion of morality, based on a concept of talent that lies out in the world and is iterated in man. It is worshipped by the titans of Atlas Shrugged and personified in the messiah-like figure of Dagny’s ‘destroyer’, whom we’ll meet shortly.
For this reason, my earlier description of Rand’s ideal society as an aristocracy of talent was incorrect. Rather, it is a theocracy of talent – a society in which talent is worshipped and before which all men must prostrate themselves. Like Plato’s Guardians, the rulers of Rand’s utopia are those who approach closest to the Form of Talent. It is therefore Rand who is the heir of Plato – not Kant. Rand has confused a rationalist theory of knowledge with rationality itself; distorted reason in the name of her false God.
For a man to be free, judgement of his actions must come from within himself and not pay service to an external standard, for the only judge of standards is man, and interpretation of standards will always lie in the hands of other men. Rand’s philosophy aims to deliver mankind into religious bondage to the rich, who are the arbiters of the market and hence the arbiters of talent. Liberalism has nothing to do with a society dominated by the high priests of commerce.
I do not know how far this Platonic disease infects other forms of libertarianism, but I would suspect many. It is, however, clear that Rand is the enemy of true liberty, and that her followers aim to set up a society in which the most fundamental liberty of all – the right of a man to make his own moral judgements – is to be suppressed in the name of the God of Talent.
Part 20 is here.