You are using paradox to argue against itself. You say liberalism is contradicted by the fact that complete individual freedom isn't even desirable. And that slavery is not so bad because the owner is incentivised to take good care of their property.
Sure, these are points. But where they should lead on to is my general point that any form of political or economic organisation has to have an organismic balance. Rather than dealing in baffling contradictions, we need to be dealing in the clarity of complementary balances.
Argument by paradox is a very normal tactic. But it isn't useful. It should just be telling you that you are stuck trying to boil reality down to some reductionist monism – a single principle – when really you should be seeing that contradiction is where you are starting to see the outline of a fundamental dichotomy coming into sight. And once you can resolve the contradiction as a complementary balance of actions, then you can arrive at the third thing which is the triadic structure of a hierarchy.
A story of two things in complementary interaction, organised by scale. The systems story of some set of global constraints and a matching set of local freedoms. A logical dichotomy arranged so that there is a separation of the two sides of the equation – as the local and the global are far apart – but then also the two sides can mix and find a balance as they become two counter-actions being expressed with equal vigour of all scales. That is how a complex system can exist and how a complex system can just keep growing by adding levels of complexity – levels over which it is both differentiating and integrating.
So there are habits of thought we bring to philosophical discussions. And pointing out seeming paradoxes is some kind of start to that. It demonstrates that every attempted monism undermines itself.
But then you need to be able to move on and dig deeper. Discover the more complex story that will be some emergent system of balanced forces. Some deep division that has arrived at its complementary resolution. A seed of structured organisation with the capacity to scale or grow.
Perhaps herein lies the main metaphysical kernel of liberalism:
it is power without the master.
Not because the master no longer exists, but because he has become invisible, elusive, inaccessible to reproach.
He no longer commands — he regulates. He does not care — he provides platforms. He does not answer — he disconnects.
Are you free?
Then be responsible for everything. — Astorre
There is now an extensive literature on the superorganism approach to understanding what is really going on in human affairs.
It is pointless trying to understand liberal democracy in terms of moral philosophy. We can't just impose values on a natural system. Values have to arise out of the success of the system. They have to be what is learnt from pragmatic experience. Indeed, the success of the system is what winds up imposing its values on us. And it is by believing otherwise that we become disconnected from the system that is evolving its complexity. We can't be masters of a world we misunderstand what is really going on.
So what is going on? An organism is a mix of information and entropification. It is a system that can evolve because it has a memory and can learn. It can become the master of power. It can develop a narrative that regulates physics and so set itself up as a self-remaking structure – an organism that knows how to both repair and reproduce its essential fabric of being.
In terms of humans as social superorganisms, we have gone through three major restructurings in those terms. First we were foragers, then farmers, then fossil fuel burners. Each developed its own narratives to collectively organise its populations around the business of entropification. The flow of power – of free energy or work capacity – through its veins. Tribal cultures have their typical narrative. Agricultural empires have theirs. And an industrialising world had to develop yet another.
Tribes have to have a deep understanding and connection with their natural landscapes.
Farmers have to be organised about extracting calories from their land and generating enough surplus to cover the overheads that come with that. The bureaucracy to organise the people. The military to protect what can be taken. The trade networks that bring in the technology and resources from lands beyond what is owned.
But the third story of the machine age was very different as what it started to eat was ancient raw energy stores – hydrocarbons buried just under the ground. Instead of having to adjust your social values to the constraints of waiting for the sun to come up each morning, the rains to come each season, the harvest to roll around each year, there was suddenly an unlimited supply of power that could be consumed as soon and as fast as you liked. All you had to do was re-organise your society and start helping yourself. Getting to the head of the line first, bringing the largest plate you could imagine, stuffing yourself silly.
The availability of power used to be a restriction on human desires. Now the problem was the consumption. The scramble was to grow the collective capacity for entropification. Rebuild society on a narrative of exponential expansion.
So that is what happened. A new set of values came in.
At first perhaps, moral philosophy thought well we know what we should do with unlimited power. The agricultural world we just left behind could have been better served by generating a greater surplus that was also distributed more evenly. The new industrialising world could be a utopia with no need for wars or poverty. All labour could be mechanised. Housewives would have dishwashers. Husbands would work in clean, safe and well-lit places. Everyone would be living like kings and queens.
But such fantasies were overtaken by the realities of the superorganism. Mechanised fossil fuel consumption promoted its own new virtues. The ones where humans became increasingly atomised as cogs in the machine. Life became displaced from natural landscapes and even farmed landscapes. We moved into the abstractions of urban landscapes and eventually cyber landscapes.
Or if we really lift the covers on what has been going on, we live in capitalised and financialised landscapes. With neo-liberalism, that new master narrative emerged. Capital flows and natural resource flows made their direct connection that now cut out the middle person. The economy was now a stripped down dragster for burning fuel. It had to become that way as it was the only way of creating a large enough mouth to gobble all the still buried energy at the 3% compounding rate that had become established.
OK. That is an exaggerated telling of the tale. A narrative to account for the narrative. But my point is that natural systems have their own dynamics. And we humans can't just dream up some values – do a little moral philosophy hand-waving – and expect to apply them to how the world works. We can say no to war, to slavery, to spoilt landscapes, to social inequality, and a whole long list of things that seem not-very-good, and so terribly-bad. But nature is just going to roll on over that in ways that we really ought to learn to recognise.
As Art Berman says in his “The Great Simplification” – “Energy is the economy. Money is a call on energy. Debt is a lien on future energy.”
And David Graeber points out in his masterly "Debt: The first 5000 years", debt is slavery. It was how slavery got culturally institutionalised in the age of agricultural empires. You had to borrow in times of hardship and after that you slid into being owned by your creditor. Money was invented as it stands for that exact relation – that exact dichotomy. Life almost immediately became a question of which side of the ledger your number was entered into – as a debtor or a creditor – as soon as life became civilised. From the time of Sumer and even before, the world could slide from owing you to owning you.
Aglietta and Orleans illustrate how this central organising principle is expressed even in religion where human existence is itself treated as a primordial debt. The Brahmanas verses that assert: “You are born to death and only by sacrifice can you redeem yourself from death.”
So both classical liberalism and neo-liberalism were just the scaling of this ancient civilising principle – the exact narrative that could lock the individual into a system of collectivised entropy production. The age of agriculture was already organised into an intricate web of credit and debt. Presented with an unlimited free lunch of entropic power in the form of fossil fuel, humanity had to scramble to keep up with the opportunity. Debt had to be super-sized to bind humanity to the Herculean mission of dissipating that much power in an orgy of consumption.
So at every turn of the human story, a systems logic is at work. Nature self-organises. And the human superorganism is simply another level of that developing natural complexity.
As participants in nature, we would seem to have choices. And moral philosophy would like to think those choices are absolute. There is some divine imperative that is the master of nature. And we were created to get that job done on this tiny speck of dust orbiting some completely anonymous solar fusion reactor for the brief moment until we cooked the planet we were living on. What a joke that line of thinking is.
But even if we are not the masters of the universe, we can learn to understand the metaphysical logic that explains nature at its most general systematic level and go from there.
And as I say, the politics of the modern neo-liberal superorganism – the conversion of all human life to a lien on future energy – has become a busy field of research and discussion. The pragmatic reality is being analysed and evidenced. The reasons we have been acting as we do is not so paradoxical in the light of how things naturally come together in a world that is fundamentally self-organising.