Permanent Disruption

Permanent Disruption

I recently read an article by Walter Russell Meade in Foreign Affairs, “The Big Shift: How American Democracy Fails its Way to Success.” I usually like reading Meade, who is good at putting today’s problems in perspective. In this case he compares our politically impoverished, feels-like-we’re-puppets-of-our-corporate-masters present to the period after the Civil War, when the US was birthing massive new industries and government seemed unable to keep up. Meade thinks the information sector is playing this role today. His optimistic point is that in the first half of the 20th century government did catch up. The US generated laws and institutions to regulate big business, while deploying some of our new national wealth to help the old and the poor. We can do that again, Meade promises. Harvard polymath Stephen Pinker on a grander scale offers the same promise in his new book, Enlightenment Now, which argues that if we trust in the scientific method and build on the progress of the past several centuries, all our problems can be overcome.

This is a useful view, and has some truth to it. But when I read Meade and Pinker I get a sinking feeling. Their framework is reassuring, telling us we are in a temporary ‘period of transition’ and eventually we’ll get our feet under us and restore some kind of normalcy. Only that isn’t what seems to happen, and will probably never happen. Is there anyone who believes we are moving from a stable time when peasants worked the land under the thumb of rich autocrats to a new equally stable time characterized by…what? Factory workers marching off in the morning with their lunch pails and coming home at night on the trolley? Office workers driving in from the suburbs and returning to a nice martini? Twenty-somethings in remote workstations logging into their latest gig jobs?

No. The disruption from our capitalist system and constant scientific and technological advances is never-ending. Meade glosses over the slight 20th century hiccups of communism and fascism, both of them attempts to exploit the chronic insecurity and anxiety caused in normal human beings by this endless churn. Communism promised a new order, overseen by all-wise technocrats, that would permanently alter the distribution of economic and social rewards to the benefit of all. And part of the attraction was that it would be a one-off: once the world was cleansed (violently and irrevocably) of the old order, the new order would last forever. Fascism was to do the same: cleanse the world of the inferior races and put the world under the boot of its rightful rulers, and you have the 1000 year Reich. They failed, so good for us, but it was a near thing, and the underlying sources of fear and anxiety—the loss of control and predictability over our daily lives, the risk of losing everything from random economic or scientific changes, the upending of social and cultural norms—have not gone away.

I am generally sympathetic to the progressive response, which is to use an active government to smooth out the inevitable ups and downs of the modern world with a variety of programs to guarantee basics like healthcare, housing, education, and a respectable income. The United States can and should do a much better job in all these areas. I think this would help buffer us from the excesses of populism. Let’s go all the way and implement some form of Basic Minimum Income. But I am not Panglossian about this. European states that offer a lot more public support than the US are also being buffeted. This is because the sources of anxiety are as much cultural as economic. The threats posed by immigration and demography and technology cannot be fully overcome by more social programs. And there is no realistic prospect of a resting place; no one can promise that once we deal with the Dreamers, or take down all the Civil War statues, or get over it and offer universal healthcare, that disruptive change will be over. No, we all realize with more or less clarity that climate change is coming, that the robots are coming, that a multicultural (and much older) society is coming, that gene-splicing is coming, that sneaky new ways for corporations and politicians to manipulate us are coming , and on and on. And as these waves of disruption threaten to break over us, we become more anxious and more susceptible to the siren songs of thugs and bullies and clever power-mongers.

Meade and Pinker would tell us, and are right to tell us, that these challenges pale in comparison with what our ancestors faced every day. Thanks to economic and political advances we don’t generally have to worry about starving to death if it’s a bad winter, or dying from minor infections, or being raped and pillaged by invading Mongols. But most people are not reassured by being told they should stop complaining about today’s problems because it used to be worse. Their sense of well-being comes from their expectations for now, and their experience with other people more or less like themselves.

Our responses fall along a spectrum from full-blown reaction, digging in our heels to Make America Great Again; to embracing the Brave New World. The former leads to Trumpism and the rule of thugs and bullies, the latter to an equally obnoxious but so far unnamed syndrome that we might call Zuckerbergism: don’t fight the manipulation and exploitation of your identity by the gods of Silicon Valley. Just relax. Make more friends on Facebook.

As is often the case, the extremes meet and reinforce one another. The Cambridge Analytica fiasco has shown that using the most sophisticated technology tools in the service of reactionary politics is well-advanced.

Today we have a political divide that is incoherent from the perspective of managing the inevitable arrival of the new. There is a liberal/progressive movement that wants to do more to support families economically and limit the power of corporations and special interests, but also favors aggressive efforts to expand rights for minorities and women and immigrants. There is a conservative/reactionary movement that wants to slow or roll back the expansion of individual rights and the flow of immigrants, but favors leaving individuals at the mercy of the market and encouraging the continued rise in inequality and corporate rights.

Populism can be seen as an attempt to combine liberal economics with a conservative social agenda. As practiced by Trump and his supporters, however, it has been wholly captured on the economic front by Paul Ryan’s neoliberal orthodoxy, leaving its appeal to rest entirely on its resistance to cultural change. In other words, it is standard-issue modern conservatism, but with an ugly edge that often crosses the line into outright racism and xenophobia.

How should we think about this? If the progressive economic agenda is a good thing from the standpoint of managing economic change and enabling citizens to cope with the radical uncertainty of modern life, is there also a case to be made for a slower, more deliberate approach to cultural change? This is a difficult nut to crack, because any such call easily plays into the hands of people who want no change at all. On some issues, such as the status of African-Americans, I would argue there is no room for anything but maximum pressure. Racism has such a deep hold in America that it requires uncompromising straight talk and radical measures, like the new National Lynching Memorial in Montgomery.

Other issues, however, are less straightforward. Immigration is an area where I think the reluctance of political leaders to manage the flow of immigrants (the result of overlapping pressure from business and progressive activists) has led to an unnecessary crisis. There is no excuse for demonizing immigrants as people, but it is not incompatible with liberal values to agree that every society has some limits on the numbers and types of people it can accept without excessive strain. Anger over immigration is the number one driver of today’s dangerous populism in both the US and Europe—responsible politicians should have done more to prevent this from happening. More limits 20 years ago would have headed off today’s enthusiasm for a Wall.

Support for rural and small town America is another area where we have not done enough as a nation. Economic dislocation has combined with disdain from urban elites to create a burning sense of anger and frustration. Does everyone have to drink soy lattes and live in a downtown loft? There are signs that ambitious youth and new companies are leaving over-priced coastal cities and striking out for the heartland. Let’s encourage this.

While racism and xenophobia are front and center in motivating populist reactionaries, anger over women’s rights is close behind. Male resentment at the rising assertiveness of women is a major driver behind the alt-right, not to mention Hillary’s loss. At the risk of angry hate-mail, I think this is a problem we need to take seriously. Young men, especially the less-educated, are having a hard time finding their way in modern society and are angry when they see women getting ahead. Many women understandably think this is a non-problem. We don’t want to reinforce patriarchy. But disgruntled, alienated young men are easy recruits into the worst kind of political movements. We need public service and apprenticeship programs aimed at finding meaningful work for men who are falling through the cracks.

There is, in short, lots of room for new political movements that don’t oppose change per se, but focus on ways to soften the impact and spread the benefits widely. Dealing better with economic change is crucial. But we also need to recognize and address sympathetically new challenges to identity, meaning, and status.

Why I am Skeptical of Skepticism

Why I Am Skeptical of Skepticism

Today’s emphasis on the weakness of human reason, our cognitive limits and unconscious biases, has become destructive. It’s the go-to story for anyone who wants to explain away things that other people are doing that they don’t like, or justify their own prejudice. The battering rams of ‘criticism’ have done their work well. Fifty years ago it was a mark of educated liberal sophistication if you pointed out that the media were pawns of corporate masters or reflected the class interests of Ivy League editors; today Fox News and every man in the street believe some version of the same thing.

The Big Idea of classical Western philosophy was ‘nature’, an objective reality independent of human beings but knowable by human beings and governed not by capricious deities but by impersonal and regular patterns or laws. We are part of it but also able to stand outside and observe it, analyze it, comprehend it. This idea clashes with most religions and a view of the world controlled by multiple gods or one god. It weakened under Christianity and almost disappeared, but survived and eventually was renewed more or less successfully in the acts of synthesis of medieval scholasticism. But it was a forced balancing act and eventually broke down with modern science and Enlightenment thinkers exploring nature as an independent reality while—initially—paying lip service to religion.

Science and objective inquiry, however, eventually turned on themselves. Many modern philosophers who looked at human beings as natural phenomena concluded we had huge built-in limitations. Hume and Kant defined unbridgeable limits to reason—we could describe Nature mathematically, but never really ‘know’ it. Darwin and his successors told us we were packages of drives and chemicals designed to survive and with brains optimized for reproductive success, not objective knowledge. Nietzsche questioned the premise of philosophy, that human life was improved by the use of reason. Freud and countless others tried to probe our hidden depths, finding we had all sorts of unconscious biases, goals, prejudices, and instincts that often overwhelmed our little frontal cortexes. Wave upon wave of sophisticated Marxists and neo-Marxists taught us to be suspicious of accepted political, social, and personal positions as nothing but justifications for power and privilege. Thomas Kuhn explained that even the natural sciences are warped by ambition and resistance to new truth. Today growing branches of social psychology and behavioral economics have popularized what is now almost a given for many, that no matter how ‘rational’ we think we are, we are caught in a spiderweb of biases and cognitive limitations.

This is a pretty well-trodden story by now.  What has become clear is that  this rejection of the possibility of agreeing on an objective reality has now penetrated so deeply that it has become an unquestioned article of faith that corrodes the possibility of common discourse. We see this in our current politics. We are having bitter fights now about science and the role of experts in politics and policy. Populists and conservatives are lining up against scientific findings like global warming, the need for childhood vaccinations, and other similar exercises in truth denial. The Trump budget drastically cuts government funding for scientific research, and Trump himself regularly asserts things that are manifestly untrue, while equally regularly claiming that all his critics are liars. The Republican tax bill that passed in December assumes future economic growth from tax cuts that is contradicted by experience, economic theory, macroeconomic models, the vast majority of economists, and many businessmen and investors.

More generally, an influential sect of conservatives opposes the role of “experts” and professionals in government and public life generally.  Steve Bannon’s famous pronouncement some months ago about rolling back the “administrative state” articulates this view. Regulations promulgated by “unelected bureaucrats” are a major target (never mind that most of these have been mandated by Congress), but the disagreement goes deeper. Many of the conservative thinkers who have banded together behind Trump demonize Woodrow Wilson as the arch-enemy who symbolizes what has gone wrong with America. Wilson was an academic and a political scientist—first President of the American Political Science Association—who thought good decisions should be informed by professional experts drawing on the latest scientific research.

In the Bannon perspective argument and discourse are exclusively about the will to power: undermining other people’s views and advancing the interests of your own tribe. There is no point in fighting bias, prejudice, instinct or whatever—this is who we really are. This is the nihilistic position that now seems to animate American (and Russian) internet trolls who have weaponized these critiques: it’s fun to weaken all norms and social bonds and ‘play’ at being irrational haters.

The American founders by and large supported what they saw as new, scientific discoveries in politics, as Hamilton tells us in Federalist #9: “The science of politics, however, like most other sciences, has received great improvement. The efficacy of various principles is now well understood, which were either not known at all, or imperfectly known to the ancients.” This new science did not assume that human beings were always reasonable in understanding and working for the common good. Quite the opposite: it was built on the assumption that men are not angels and usually act for their own narrow and selfish ends. Scientific institutions and laws, however, can take this into account and convert normal self-interested behavior into decent government.

The difference between then and now, in a nutshell, is that we are less and less sure that people are rational in even the narrow sense. Our democracy doesn’t assume that voters are high-minded and disinterested; but it arguably does assume that voters have a good idea of what they want and can map political candidates and policy proposals onto their wants and choose accordingly. Certainly this is possible for a literate, informed, educated citizenry. This allows for the formation of coherent political parties and political platforms.

But the election of Donald Trump is only one arrow in the quiver of skepticism about voter rationality. Much research on both the macro level (voting patterns, public opinion surveys) and the micro level (how individual choices can shift or change due to cues and circumstances that have nothing objectively to do with a political choice) suggests that we do not know our own minds. We do not have stable preferences, do not connect preferences to policy options, do not vote or choose in accord with any recognizable ideology or set of principles. We are ridiculously easy to manipulate and confuse. We pick our tribes or parties first, and make our goals and principles fit.

In the eyes of many advocates of these theories, the problem these findings point to is not that we don’t know our own minds, but that we don’t really have minds to know. In this the findings of political science and social psychology seem to agree with much of modern philosophy. The ‘self’ is an illusion, an unstable fiction of coherence that is belied by actual human behavior. Much of what we like to think our ‘selves’ think, believe, and do is done to us by unconscious drives and internal mental modules and genetic makeup. Or it is shaped by idiosyncratic external factors—upbringing, language, culture, geography, what we ate for dinner, a random TV show.

You don’t have to be a philosophy major to accept these conclusions. They are baked into most of our education in the humanities and social sciences, and increasingly into popular discourse.  An appropriate response to this framework would seem to be humility: “don’t believe everything you think.” Even if we reject the more radical implications, we should have a healthy skepticism of our own opinions. But inevitably it is most often used to cast doubt on what other people think, people we disagree with or dislike.

Accepting that there are limits to individual reasonableness doesn’t have to do this—it can reinforce the need for dialogue if people agree that each of us by ourselves has limits and blinkers, but collectively we can approach closer to what is true and good for all. The argument for democracy as the best, or at least a defensible, form of government largely rests on judgments about the role of uncertainty and unpredictability in human affairs. If the world is terribly complicated and full of complex interactions, and human beings are inherently limited, no human being can fully unravel the lines of causality, or predict the outcomes of what we do and don’t do. This means in some basic sense that we are all equal. Each of us is just as flawed and partial as anyone else. There is good reason to think that joint judgments that get the benefit of many individuals contributing their experience and views, and that guarantee the decision will be made with an eye to the well-being of the many, will be better and fairer than the judgments of a few.

This was Aristotle’s argument for democracy. We are better together. We don’t have full access to the truth but we can discern more and check one another’s excesses and mistakes if we agree on processes and institutions to manage conflict, and accept that the results of these deliberations are legitimate.

It is not clear that most Americans accept this anymore. It may be that democracy “cannot bear very much reality.” Today we have an unprecedented class of commentators, analysts, and explainers operating ceaselessly 24/7. Deploying the multiple access tools of social media, close examination of every law, every election, every public figure, every tweet, reveals too many warts. Each voice wants to gain our attention and our dollars by stoking our fears. Our naïve faith is overwhelmed. The reaction is often, I don’t trust any of you. Or, I trust the ones who reinforce what I want to believe.

Popular culture reinforces our pessimism. Americans today are not optimistic about their future, and the airwaves (an anachronistic image, but you get the idea) are full of dark and dystopian tales. Today’s Batman is not your father’s superhero. From the Matrix to Westworld, reality is something to be manipulated and reshaped, usually by nefarious governments or corporations. Orwell’s 1984 is back on the best-seller lists.

Today, defenders of democracy must go deeper than reiterating the arguments made in 1789. We were founded at a high point of optimism about the ability of reason to craft laws and institutions to steer us in a positive direction—a belief that normal people with all their frailties can, if well-organized, make good decisions. Americans now tend to believe that their most important institutions conspire to deceive and manipulate them, while many of their fellow citizens cannot be trusted because they are deceived and manipulated, whether by fake news or the deep state or wealthy oligarchs or Silicon Valley techies or all of the above.

I have no easy solution, but I can say that nowadays I try to be skeptical of skepticism. The United States has, by any historical or comparative measure, had a damn good run these last 250 years. We need some major housecleaning, however, to have another 250. We seem to have collectively decided that making serious changes to our institutions is just too hard. We can’t get rid of the stupid Electoral College, we can’t restrict money in politics, we can’t do something about our crazy Senate and its bias (the worst in the developed world) in favor of the rural few at the expense of the urban many, we can’t lift up African-Americans, we can’t fix gerrymandering. And much, much more. Let’s do some of these things, and we won’t need to make so many excuses for our bad behavior by blaming hidden drives and unconscious biases.