# Anarchism and Justice (Part IV)

**URL:** <https://www.libertarianism.org/essays/anarchism-and-justice-part-iv>

**By** Roy A. Childs, Jr.

**Published:** October 1, 1971

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“In fact, society is not an entity at all, but an aggregate of individuals interrelating.”

## IX The Aristotelian-Thomistic Political Tradition

In the history of political philosophy, it often seems that there are as many different positions as there are individuals to hold them. There stands, however, one basic position in political philosophy which occurs again and again, and which has given rise to more variants than any other single doctrine: the Aristotelian-Thomistic position. From ancient Greece to the Middle Ages, from the American Revolution to modern-day America, this position reappears. It has given rise to Hegelianism, which emphasized one aspect of it against the others, and Lockean individualism, which was the fountainhead of the American Revolution, and which again emphasized one aspect over the others. Today it is still upheld by both conservatives who emphasize the role of order and by advocates of world government and egalitarianism, such as Mortimer J. Adler. Without a doubt, it has been the most widely adopted political philosophy, in different forms, in the history of philosophy, and only Marxism, perhaps, has had a greater impact. We shall consider this view _not_ because many libertarians are likely to hold to it (though many conservative theoreticians do), but rather because it is this approach which will help us understand and make sense out of the approaches of two thinkers who follow after it: John Locke and Ayn Rand. It is my opinion that these two philosophers, especially Rand, operate within this basic framework. This discussion, then, shall, among other things, set the context for dealing with the theories of these two philosophers.

My approach shall be to concentrate on presenting a model of this position as it is presented by the Thomists, to identify and isolate its basic concepts, and to discuss their validity. I should like to state at the outset that I consider this tradition of thought to be the most coherent and best worked out of any in the history of philosophy. One cannot treat such a school in any one single essay or, I would venture to guess, in any one book. Therefore, I must necessarily attempt to condense a large body of literature into its briefest form. I shall not discuss all of the individual variants of this position any more than is absolutely necessary, but shall emphasize the elements that different variants have in common. I shall, from time to time, interject comparisons with the philosophy of Objectivism, to point out objective similarities with the Thomistic tradition, which will then make consideration of the political philosophy of Objectivism somewhat more coherent. (31) I shall rely heavily on Mortimer J. Adler's defense of government against anarchism in _The Common Sense of Politics_, since that is one of the few treatments in this philosophical tradition to detail its objections to anarchism.

The core of the Aristotelian-Thomistic argument for the State is that the State is natural to man, and that it is necessary for his perfection as a rational being. Translating this into our own terminology, this position holds that the State is a necessary condition of man's proper survival and well being in a social context — a position which explicitly contradicts our own. Let us briefly consider the ethical context from within which this claim is made, and then the claim itself for a more detailed consideration. (32)

Both Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas hold that man, like all other substances in the universe, acts for an end, and that “the human agent acts for happiness, with a view to the acquisition of happiness.” (p. 118) Thomas Aquinas holds, according to Copleston, that: “the only acts of man which fall properly within the moral sphere are free acts acts which proceed from man precisely as man, as a rational and free being.” (p. 119) Both Thomas and Aristotle differ from Rand in holding that although man's proper end is happiness, or the life proper to man, that the choice of this end is not an option for man — man _naturally_ (by his nature) desires the good — _he cannot help desiring it_. Rand, on the other hand, rejects this view and _any_ view which holds that desires of any kind, including the desire to live, are innate. For Rand the choice to live or not to live is a man's basic act of choice. But while _this aspect_ of Rand's meta-ethics differs from that of Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas, the general _thrust_ of all three positions is the same, that the goal and purpose of ethics is to promote man's life, well being and happiness _as man_, i.e. as a rational being. (33) For Aristotle and Thomas, man must focus on the end explicitly largely to develop a code of principles and to avoid error. Although man aims naturally at the good, states Aristotle, “Will not the knowledge of it, then, have a great influence on life? Shall we not, like archers who have a mark to aim at, be more likely to hit upon what is right?”

Copleston writes of Thomas: “The will… desires happiness… as its end, and human acts are good or bad insofar as they are or are not means to the attainment of that end. Happiness must, of course, be understood in relation to man as such, to man as a rational being, not indeed as a disembodied intellect… the end is that which perfects man as such, and man as such is a rational being, not a mere animal. Every individual human act, that is to say, every deliberate act, is either in accordance with the order of reason… or out of accordance with the order of reason…so that every human act is either good or bad.” (p. 125) And: “The good for man is that which benefits his nature, that to which he has a natural inclination as a rational being. Thus man, in common with all other substances, has a natural inclination to the preservation of his being, and reason, reflecting on this inclination, orders that the means necessary for the preservation of life are to be taken.” (p. 127)

It is this natural tendency or inclination toward happiness and life that is the foundation of ethics for Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas. What, then, is the nature and origin of _obligation_? “The rule and measure of human acts is the reason, for it belongs to the reason to direct a man's activity towards his end. It is reason, therefore, which gives orders, which imposes obligation.” (p. 126) And: “Obligation, therefore is imposed by reason, but it is founded immediately on human nature itself…” (p. 127) The final point which needs to be made here concerns the unalterability of moral principles. Thomas held that “the primary precepts of the natural law — e.g., life is to be preserved — are entirely unchangeable, since their fulfillment is absolutely necessary for the good of man…” However though one had an obligation to eat, for example, one did _not_ have an obligation to eat this or that, i.e. the concretes in Thomas's moral philosophy are largely left open, or they are regarded as _contextual_, as Rand has stated. The primary moral principles are unchangeable since they are an immediate deduction from the nature of man itself, and could conceivably change only if man's nature changed. This means that the moral _code_ for Thomism is unalterable, but that any one particular action or strategy under the code is determined by thinking, by reason. The goal and purpose of morality is to promote human life or happiness. Man's fundamental moral obligation is to make a good life for himself. The question is: how does he do this? Thomas's fundamental answer is: by means of rationality. But there is no need to investigate in depth the substantive normative ethics of Thomism; this is flawed because Thomas attempted to integrate a naturalistic and theological approach to morality, or a natural and super-natural approach to ethics, or: the conclusions of a strictly rational process of thought with the preconceived dictates of the Christian religion, of “revelation”. This, more than anything else, weakens Thomas's and his followers' defenses of a rational ethic. Indeed, the issue of God tends to throw off the tracks both a rigorous treatment of metaethics and a clean, hard-nosed, _rational_ approach to specific moral rules.

It is with the transition to social and political theory that we shall concentrate on, since we are predominately concerned with the political theory of the Aristotelians and Thomists. We have seen that man is obliged to act to attain his own happiness and well-being. What they maintain is that society, government, and the State are all necessary conditions of man's proper survival in a social context. This is what we call the _grounds_ of political authority, to be contrasted with another, related, aspect of political authority, viz. that concerned with the specific _titles_ of political authority. (This corresponds to the distinction we made in Section IV of this essay between the _justification of the institution_ of property _per se_ and the _legitimacy of any specific title_.) The _grounds_ of political authority are those things on which authority of the State is based as a system or institution, the principle to which one appeals in justifying political authority as such. The titles of political authority are those things on which authority is based in particular instances or to which one makes appeal in order to prove that political authority is vested rightfully in one agency or institution rather than another. Putting it another way, the grounds of political authority is the answer to the question: Why is the State necessary at all? What justifies its existence as an institution? The _titles_ of political authority is the answer to the question: What justifies the concrete authority of a specific group of men? We shall consider both of these in turn in the contexts of both the Aristotelian-Thomistic position, the Lockean position, and the Objectivist position.

Concerning the Thomistic assertion that _society_ is proper and necessary to man, Copleston writes: “Man is not an isolated individual who can attain his end simply as an individual by using his own individual reason; he is by nature a social or political being, born to live in community with his fellows. Indeed, man needs society more than other animals do. For whereas nature has provided the animals with clothing, means of defense, etc., she has left man unprovided, in a condition where he has to provide for himself by the use of his reason, and this he can do only through cooperation with other men. Division of labor is necessary, by which one man should devote himself to medicine, another to agriculture, and so on. But the most evident sign of the social nature of man is his faculty of expressing his ideas to other men through the medium of language…Society, therefore, is natural to man; but if society is natural, so is government. Just as the bodies of men and animals disintegrate when the controlling and unifying principle…has left them, so would human society tend to disintegrate owing to the number of human beings and their natural preoccupation with self, unless there was someone to take thought for the common good, and direct the activities of individuals with a view to the common good.” (pp. 133-34)

Before taking this argument up, let us ask what is meant by the term “natural” here. Michael Cronin, in his work _The Science of Ethics_, says that the State is “natural” in three senses: (a) “it is founded on the most natural of all social institutions, the family”, (b) “it grew out of the family _naturally_, the State being nothing more than the natural expansion of the family”, and (c) “the State is natural because its end is natural, and the State is necessary for that end.” (Vol. II, p. 471) This is confusing and inadequate; only two real senses of “natural” are presented here; the first is that the State is historically “natural” or inevitable, “growing” out of the family. This accounts for the typically organic view of the State manifested in many Thomists. The second holds that the State is “natural” in the sense of being a rationally determined means to an end which is an objective necessity of man. Mortimer J. Adler makes this distinction between two senses of the term “necessary” in discussing the necessity of government, what I shall call _ontological_ and _teleological_ necessity (and which Adler calls “natural” and “practical” necessity, terms which I find confusing and unnecessary). Ontological necessity is a direct implication of causality _per se_, and applies to every kind of entity not possessing the power of choice; teleological necessity follows from choice of an end and final causality, and pertains _only_ to organisms which pursue purposes in the face of alternatives. Adler's distinction is this: “something happens necessarily in the very nature of the case when, given the operation of a cause, its effect cannot not occur… we speak of a thing's being necessary in the order of human action when it is indispensable to the end that we have in view, if it is impossible to achieve the end we are aiming at without.” (p. 69 of _The Common Sense of Politics_)

Now let us take up the brief discussion by Copleston, before proceeding to the more rigorous and enlightening treatment of Adler. It has been said that society, and therefore the State (or government, which is not distinguished from the State here — a practice unlike most Thomistic treatments) is necessary for human happiness and well-being. What has in fact been shown? At best, that man does need society, or relationships with other men, something which I grant, and the case for which I think can be made with much more force than any Thomist has presented. But so what? That is the question, for the transition from society, or human relationships _per se_, to government or the State, has been established only by means of an assertion and a false analogy: that government is necessary for the existence of society, and thus, by derivation, is necessary for man's happiness and well-being. The analogy is, again, organic, and does not hold up — at least not as it stands. What the Thomists have in fact done is to provide the basic reason why man needs society at all — in order to to produce the things which he needs to survive and prosper. But, as we have seen earlier, this sets the standard by which other institutions are to be evaluated, and so no institution contradicting this standard can ever be “necessary” for the enhancement of human life and happiness.

There are several other contradictions inherent in this view of the State: most Thomists, such as Cronin, argue that the State naturally developed out of the family, thus making it a sort of friendly conglomeration of peaceful folks all living, and producing, together. Nothing could be further from the truth. Historically, the Thomists are not on weak grounds here — they are on no grounds at all. Cronin implicitly recognizes this, even though he explicitly claims that this theory of the origin of the State is historically accurate, for he later attempts to defend as justified _military conquest_ as a legitimate title to political authority, which there would never be any need to do had their account of the origin of the State been founded on fact. But, as historians, economists, and sociologists alike have shown, the State as an institution and in most particular instances, is founded on conquest, not on any peaceful outgrowth of the family. (34) It is founded on the coercive control of one social group by others, always the result of violence. So this aspect of the Thomistic theory should be discarded at once.

Furthermore, as is evident from a consideration of their case, the State, or government, is primarily made necessary by the existence of society, which is made necessary by the requirement of man's nature that he support his life by reason and productive work. But the State is the only organization in society that acquires _its_ revenue by means of systematic coercion and threats, rather than by selling its “productive services” in the market. While society and the free market can be justified in the way that the Thomists attempt, therefore, it is an altogether different matter to justify an institution which lives parasitically off the productive efforts of members of society; what justifies and gives rise to society is enough to undermine the alleged justification for the State itself, since men cannot simultaneously have a need to engage in productive work _and_ a need for an institution which regulates, controls and confiscates the products of such productive work. Now if one wishes to argue for a different kind of government here, such as Locke and Rand wish to do, then an entirely different argument must be constructed, without any reference to supposedly historical processes of the State arising as some kind of a “voluntary” association. Thus the Thomists must _demonstrate_ that the government they are talking about does not contradict, by its very structure, nature and origin, the principles which define why society is necessary and good for man.

This is in fact a problem which is inherent in a great many political philosophies: they construct a theory of what government or the State ought to be on the one hand, and then go on to treat existing governments or States as though they had somehow really been formed by the methods regarded as appropriate by the political theory. Even Locke, the most radical of traditional political philosophers, attempts, after constructing a brilliantly radical theory of government, to pretend that the British government had in fact been originated in the social contract manner which he described. But, again, this is simply not the case, and political philosophers have a very special obligation to avoid doing this, since otherwise they may end up ratifying the very institutions and organizations which, by their theory, they should denounce as vicious tyrannies.

One further point remains to be considered here. Copleston states of Thomas that unless there were a government, “… human society would tend to disintegrate owing to the number of human beings and their natural preoccupation with self.…” Two aspects of this should be considered, for both are false. One is the age-old fallacy that merely having a greater number of individuals in a “society” somehow makes everything more complex. But in fact very little has changed, for society is not an entity like a herd of cattle within a corral of limited dimensions. The Thomists talk in this manner as if we faced a problem of fitting more and more people into one single bathtub, which is not the case. In fact, society is not an entity at all, but an aggregate of individuals interrelating. The growth of “society” then means nothing more than the fact that either (a) there are more people involved in relationships, or (b) the same people are increasing the number of relationships that they have with each other. But it is difficult to see how this creates any “problems” which cannot be solved by non-State means. In fact and in history, this type of “problem” has been _augmented_ by State action, and not solved by it, for the State has everywhere and always prevented natural free-market mechanisms from operating. Thus the problems of ecology, unemployment, overpopulation, poverty and so forth. It is difficult to see why any problems are created if Joe decided not only to associate with Ronn and Dave, but with Charles and Jim as well. For it is important to note here that each and every “growth” of society will be composed of individualistic “units” like this. If problems are created which the individuals _perceive_ as problems, then in a free society they always face the option of disassociating. (For a critique of the argument from “collective goods” and “external benefits”, see Murray N. Rothbard's _Man, Economy and State_, Chapter 12, Pt. 12.) In short, if human associations in a purely free-market society create problems, then since the burden of proof rests on the proponent of any position, these “problems” must be detailed, shown to result from the opera-

tions of a market, and it must _also_ be shown that the State can or must be invoked to “solve” these problems, and in addition that the State does not violate the earlier social principles which we have set down.

One final point: it is asserted that due to human beings’ “natural preoccupation with self”, that a State is necessary to promote the “common good”. We shall take up this last concept shortly, but in the meantime, let us ask simply: if, given the Thomistic concept of “natural”, preoccupation with self is “natural”, then _how is it possible_ for the State, which is composed of individual men, to avoid this “preoccupation with self”, which, it is hinted, is evil or “narrow”? In fact, according to Thomistic arguments all motivation and action must be capable of being traced back to the extremely selfish one of preservation of one’s own life and attainment of happiness and well-being. So if this preoccupation with self is natural to man, then it it natural to the government too, and in any case it has not been detailed why this is anything to worry about. Although Copleston’s treatment is admittedly very brief, I am not familiar with _any_ Aristotelian or Thomistic text which discusses this at any length. In text after text this crucial transition from the necessity of society to the necessity of government is glossed over in the most simplistic terms imaginable, i.e. all the difficult questions are avoided. In fact, in most Thomistic texts there is a gross and irrational _confusion_ of society with the State, or with government — that is, they are treated as identical. This indeed is a very good reason for _all_ political philosophers to explicitly and carefully consider the doctrine of anarchism, for in carefully making out a case against anarchism, the political philosopher who is an advocate of government will not only become aware of many difficulties and issues which he might have otherwise been tempted to avoid, but also he will concentrate on the fundamental issue of political philosophy, which is: does man need a State, or government, and if so, why? The answer to this question will do much toward making the base of a theory explicit, and will establish the framework from within which the details of how a government should be structured and how it should be structured and how it should function, what powers it should have, etc., can be more systematically considered.

Such an approach is made in one modern work, the only work in the Aristotelian-Thomistic tradition which I have seen that gives the issues raised by anarchism a central role in constructing a positive political philosophy, the only one which attempts to refute anarchism and argue in detail for the necessity of government: Mortimer J. Adler’s _The Common Sense of Politics_ (35). It is Adler’s treatment of anarchism and government that we shall now take up in depth.

In _The Common Sense of Politics_, Adler devotes three chapters to examining the doctrine of anarchism under the general title of “The New Confrontation: Political Wisdom and Anti-Political Folly”: “The Necessity of Government”, “Concerning the Goodness of the State”, and “The Anti-Political Philosophers”. We shall here summarize his argument and then take up the task of estimating its validity. Adler’s thesis contains many aspects which shall be taken up systematically, but the thrust of his argument is that “the existence of any community depends upon the institution of government.” Adler first discusses the two senses of the term “necessary”, as we have already done. “Government is a human institution; it is not a natural phenomenon, but a product of human action. Hence the question of its necessity is a question about its indispensability as a means to a certain end. To answer the question we must, therefore, look to the end that government is supposed to serve and attempt to define, as precisely as possible, the way in which government functions as a means.” (p. 70)

To define government, Adler considers the difference between being governed and being exempt from government: “An individual who is subject to government in any respect whatsoever is one who, in that respect, obeys a rule of action or carries out a decision that is not entirely or wholly of his own making.” (p. 70) He then goes on to make a distinction between “self-government” and “autonomy”: self-government means “a certain type of government in which the decision that I act on or the rule that I obey is _neither entirely of my own making nor wholly made by others_;” autonomy means “those cases in which the individual acts on decisions or obeys rules _entirely of his own making_.”

Let us take this distinction and these definitions up. In fact, in the history of political theory, or anything else for that matter, no one has ever proposed anything remotely approaching Adler’s concept of “autonomy” — not, that is, anyone who has considered its implications. For we earlier established that all actions must by their very nature involve entities, and that any theory of proper human behaviour in a social context must take account of this, and of the concepts of property and ownership which are directly implicated. To advocate autonomy in Adler’s sense of the term, then, would be to advocate that anyone be free to take any actions whatever, based on decisions or rules “entirely of his own making”. This is to say, since actions and decisions are over things, that anyone should be free to use any entity without consulting anyone else, for that would be a form of “self-government” in which the rules and decisions are “neither entirely of my own making nor wholly made by others”. This would make “autonomy” self-contradictory as a social philosophy, for one cannot simultaneously support both A’s and B’s right to “act on decisions or rules entirely of his own making” with respect to the same entity in the same time and same respect — at least not if they disagree on the use to which the entity is to be put. Therefore, according to Adler’s definitions, _any_ recognition of property rights whatsoever would involve a loss of autonomy, for in recognizing property rights one is respecting a certain sphere within which others are justified in making decisions and imposing rules (within limits). But since any theory of social behaviour must take the question of property and ownership into account, autonomy precludes practically _any_ social theory whatever. According to Adler’s definitions, two parties to an exchange are “governed” in some sense because the decision that affects each with respect to the exchange is not “entirely” of either one’s or the other’s making, i.e. the decision to exchange must be _mutual_. So would almost _any_ social relationship, even the simple act of carrying on a conversation, for a conversation, unlike a monologue, must involve _two_ decisions at a minimum; hence the conversation _qua_ conversation is an act in which the participants are in some sense subject to “government”. If one abstains from using your property against your will, then _he_ is being “governed” because his action is _not_ based entirely on his own decision.

Thus “autonomy” would rule out _any_ social relationships whatever. Adler introduces the concept “self-government” in contradistinction to this, which we have examined. Let us introduce a third concept, that of “slavery”, which we will use to refer to “a certain type of government in which the decision that I act on, or the rule that I obey is _wholly made by others_.” This, together with the distinctions made by Adler, exhausts the alternatives. Now is slavery a possible state of affairs _in this sense_? Not at all — _if_ we take the phrase “that I act on” literally, for unless one is bound, gagged, and carried about by others (in which case no action of an agent is involved anyway), one always has the ability to decide to quit, die, refuse orders, and so on. This means that Adler has very cleverly _begged the entire question_, because neither autonomy nor slavery is possible in a social context. Complete autonomy of any one person in a social context would _ipso facto_ involve the literal slavery of the others — for otherwise they would be making decisions, etc. Thus by making both autonomy and slavery impossible or meaningless, Adler slides the concept of government by us under our noses, and then proceeds to make out his case for _civil_ government by sliding along a supposed continuum. But if a distinction is meaningless or absurd, a concept flowing out of it cannot be far behind.

I have attempted to show how his approach begs the questions he should rather face up to; he has virtually established in the reader’s mind the premise that _some_ kind of government is necessary and that it is only a question of _what kind_ of government. Given Adler’s definition, this is in a sense true — but _that_ is precisely what is at issue. What justifies Adler’s definitions? There is no answer to this question, and since his definitions are crucial and fundamental to his making out a case, one suspects that his forces already find themselves in retreat.

Adler’s definitions rest on non-essential considerations, focusing on the socially derivative question of _whose decision_ is involved in any action. We have shown that the more basic question is: decision _over what_? This of course leads us into the questions of property and ownership, and of justice and rights. From this one derives concepts such as consent (in social relations), exchange, mutuality, and so on. Adler’s error is to begin in the middle of a problem, instead of at the beginning.

Let us now consider the remaining structure of his argument _for_ government, critically evaluate it, and then consider Adler’s arguments _against_ anarchism. We shall then consider a few side issues, and wrap things up.

Adler takes step two of his case for government by constructing an extremely simple model of social life which will, he claims, help us to take a first step towards understanding the functions of government. Three scientists are about to start on an expedition. They will leave civilisation behind them, and must face the question of how rules or decisions will be made for the action of the group as a group. “Though the scientists associate as equals, each needs the cooperation of the other two in order to succeed in their common enterprise. They must agree, therefore, upon some method of regulating their own conduct and of reaching decisions in a manner that will preserve their own concerted efforts to achieve a common goal.” (p. 72) Adler says that there are only three alternatives: unanimous consent, dictatorship, or majority vote. Only the first, he claims, leaves the individuals autonomous, “the second and third institute a mode of government” — a claim based on Adler’s earlier false reasoning. Adler does _not_ claim that the first is impossible — only that it is impractical, for along their trip, these scientists are likely to encounter problems whose solutions reasonable men can disagree about. If only one such problem occurs, and if a decision cannot be reached, then the expedition is rendered a failure — thus the impracticality of autonomy.

_“We have now discovered one reason for the necessity of government,”_ Adler writes. _“It is necessary as an indispensable means of getting rules adopted and decisions made about matters concerning which equals engaged in a common enterprise can disagree.”_ (my emphasis) It is therefore in their interests to adopt one of the other two methods of resolving disputes: “While unanimity will not work as a way of getting a number of equals engaged in a common enterprise to work harmoniously together for a common goal, it is the only way in which equals can institute an authority that they acknowledge or a government to which they willingly submit.” (p. 74) Thus the initial establishment of a “proper government” requires unanimous consent: “government itself cannot be instituted by majority vote or by the decision of a leader, since the authority of a leader or of a majority is the very thing being instituted. Hence the institution of government itself, together with the delegation of authority to an elected leader or to a majority, must be accomplished by the _unanimous consent_ of the parties involved — in this case, the three scientists as equals.” (p. 75) Once this consent is gotten, each particular rule made under the sway of government does not have to have such unanimous consent; indeed, such a policy would be self-defeating. “. . . The individual remains self-governing when the rule adopted or the decision made is contrary to the one that he himself would have chosen were he autonomous. The fact that he is obliged to obey a rule or to act on a decision that is not of his own choosing must be combined with the fact that his consent was involved in setting up the authority to which he owes obedience and, in the case of maximal self-government, with the additional fact that he participated in the voting that eventuated in a decision other than his own. For him to refuse obedience in those cases in which he disagrees with an authorized rule or or decision is tantamount to his insisting upon his autonomy instead of acknowledging the authority of government.” (p. 75-76)

Adler says then that three things have been learned from this model: (1) submitting to authority is the only alternative to complete autonomy in making rules and decisions “concerning the actions to be taken by a group of men associated for a for a common purpose.” (2) The retention of complete autonomy is impractical, and therefore authority of some sort is necessary. Disagreement about matters of importance being likely, “individuals associated for a common purpose must surrender their complete autonomy and substitute for it an authority that they themselves set up and acknowledge.” And: (3) “Government is necessary only as a means — a means of achieving concerted action for the good commonly aimed at by a group of associated men. The necessity of government answers to the need for a commonly acknowledged authority to make rules or decisions concerning actions that affect the achievement of a common purpose.” (p. 76) This is particularly important. But that is not the sole reason why Adler believes government to be necessary, or the only guide to its proper functions. Government is also necessary for maintaining peace — and it is _here_ that Adler makes his transition from government in the sense of who enforces the rules of bridge or old maids to a _civil_ or _political_ government. Adler maintains that in regular human society, even more than with the scientists, “the common good for which men associate in the large community cannot be achieved if each of them insists upon retaining his complete autonomy. Some portion of it must be surrendered to establish an authority for making rules and reaching decisions. . . .” (Note the continual reference to “common purposes” and the “common good” — we shall have reason to refer to them shortly.)

Why do we need government to maintain the peace? Adler’s argument is this: in any populous community, disagreements will arise. And conflicts will develop. “Confronted with the probability of such conflicts or disputes, what alternatives are available for settling them? Only two: one is whatever power is at the disposal of the parties in conflict; the other is the authority of government to adjudicate disputes and to enforce its judgements.” (p. 77) This, of course, is a false dichotomy, and rests on a non-exhaustive classification. No argument flowing from this assertion can possibly establish Adler’s case.

Adler’s argument then moves to consider each of these alternatives: “In the absense of government, each of the parties to a dispute, being autonomous, must operate as judge in his own case and, in defense of his _ex parte_ judgement, must try to persuade his opponent or, failing in that, exercise such _de facto_ force as he can bring to bear. . . . (I)f men who live together and interact in all affairs of their daily lives (?) retain their complete autonomy, there is no way of excluding recourse to violence as a way of settling the disputes that are likely to arise. It follows, therefore, that government with the authority to adjudicate disputes and with authorized force to implement the judgement of its tribunals is indispensable to the peace of a civil society, in which men are associated for their common good. . . . In the absence of government, each individual would have to defend himself against aggression by others with whatever power is at his disposal.” (p. 78) Adler has several other interesting distinctions and arguments, but the thrust of his case for government has been stated. Summing up, he says that “government, with the authority to make laws, to adjudicate disputes, and to issue administrative decisions, and with a monopoly of authorized force to coerce where it fails to persuade, is an indispensable means, _proximately_, to the peace of communal life, and _ultimately_, to the happiness of its individual members, to whatever extent a good human life for each of them depends on their being able to live together, work cooperatively for their common good, and interact peacefully with one another.” (p. 80) And: “But why is government necessary? Because, as we have seen, complete autonomy on the part of individuals is incompatible with their effective cooperation for a common purpose and with their peaceful interaction in communal life. Hence if the effectiveness and peace of communal life is itself something — good as a means to the good life of human beings — then complete autonomy, not government, is to be judged intrinsically evil. In short, the goodness of government as well as its necessity rests on the fact that human beings, in order to engage effectively in the pursuit of happiness, must associate and cooperate with their fellowmen to obtain the goods of communal life, among which peace is a principal component, and they cannot do so unless the authority and authorized force of government replace autonomy with regard to all matters affecting communal and common goods.” (p. 81) This, in substance, is Adler’s argument.

This doctrine rests on a definition of government in terms of non-essentials and proceeds to slide along a supposed continuum without showing why there is a continuum and without showing that there is a necessity for a civil government over a whole society. Furthermore, in all of his arguments Adler employs the cryptic phrase of people associating in order to engage in a “common enterprise” or “common purpose”. Now in one sense certainly this term is meaningful, e.g. in Adler’s case of the three specific scientists who go on a specific expedition for a particular purpose. But in what sense can _everyone_ in the world (for Adler actually advocates a world government) be said to be “associating”, let alone associating for a “common purpose”? I cannot understand this. What is _meant_ by a common purpose or enterprise? Does Adler mean to refer, as he does in the case of the concept of “common good”, to that which every individual purpose has in common, or with the purposes which man must have, universally, by his nature, in order to survive and prosper? What are the necessary and sufficient conditions of something’s being a common purpose? Without a clear understanding of these concepts, no sense can be made of Adler’s “justification” for government, and no understanding of the reasons why government is supposedly necessary for man’s happiness and well-being. So far, then, we have an understanding of neither the “what” nor the “why” of Adler’s theory. In any literal sense, of course, all people are _not_ “associating” for any common purpose. Since Adler’s model problem of society pertained to human action, we can narrow down the concept of “purpose” here to refer to those of concrete alternatives in reality among which a man chooses. In this sense, _all_ purposes are concrete. In this sense, as Murray Rothbard writes in _Man, Economy and State_, “acting man does not evaluate the goods open to him by abstract classes, but in terms of the specific units available.” To show that this is the sense in which Adler must mean “purposes” in the phrase “common purposes” or “engaged in a common enterprise”, let us consider the alternative: that he means any abstract class of ends, such as “man’s well-being” or the like. In _this_ sense, there could easily be imagined two people, one in Tibet and the other in New York City, who are each engaged in this pursuit, and who never come in contact with each other. Although each is engaged in pursuing his own well-being, what meaning does it have to say that they are engaged in a “common purpose”? But let it stand. In this sense, government is not necessary in Adler’s view, for as long as their actions never bring them together, there can be no need to “keep the peace” and it does not seem immediately obvious that there even _are_ any rules or decisions which they must make, each involving the other. Since the onus of proof is on Adler, we cannot assume that it is our responsibility to make sense out of this. Let us approach this whole issue from another perspective. ALL THAT ADLER HAS SHOWN IS THAT _IF_ THERE ARE ANY COMMON ENTERPRISES WHICH MUST INVOLVE ABSOLUTELY ALL HUMAN BEINGS, AND, AS A SECONDARY FEATURE, REQUIRE ABSOLUTELY THE PARTICIPATION OF EVERYONE (i.e. the achievement of the common purpose would be impossible without everyone’s cooperation) AND _IF_ THERE WERE ANY PROBLEMS WHOSE RESOLUTIONS REQUIRED THAT EVERYONE CONFORM TO A CERTAIN RULE OR DECISION, WITHOUT EXCEPTION, THEN THERE WOULD BE A NEED FOR _SOME_ MEANS OF MAKING THE DECISION. But Adler has not _shown_ that there are any common purposes which require the cooperation of everyone without exception, whose achievement requires that there be a means of enforcing a single set of decisions upon people. IN OTHER WORDS, ADLER HAS NOT SHOWN THAT THERE IS IN FACT ANY PROBLEM TO WHICH A GOVERNMENT _MUST_ ARISE AS A SOLUTION. Furthermore, in his statements about keeping the peace, Adler presupposes that there are two and only two alternatives to solving disputes: individual violence and civil government. This has not been shown, and his sloppy concept of a “government” would not in the least preclude the multiplicity of competing agencies which the anarchist advocates. We shall consider this latter in more depth when we treat Rand, since this belief is also common to her; but in addition to setting up the problem, Rand also attempts to argue _against_ the theory of “competing governments”. So we shall concentrate on the first and crucial area of Adler’s arguments here.

I should like to introduce something new at this point, a method of considering political issues which has not, to my knowledge, been used before in defending a political position (particularly libertarianism), at least not _explicitly_. This method is simply a variant of the _onus of proof_ argument:

Occam's Razor. (There are many variants of this, such as the principle of parsimony, Morgan's methodological principle, and Rand's Razor, which I shall not distinguish here.) I should like to try to use this principle as a scientific criterion to refute Adler's theory and establish, in this context, the validity of libertarianism, which has a simpler solution to the problems posed. Since this approach is not common, I must spend a few paragraphs clarifying it.

Any position in philosophy is, in the final analysis, an attempted solution to a problem or set of problems, and thus should be tested for its validity in the same basic manner as any other scientific formula. To explain how the principle of parsimony works as a criterion of validity, I shall borrow Adler's own excellent analysis of it in his book _The Difference of Man and the Difference It Makes_, and then, focusing on the problem which Adler has set up, try to show a simpler solution for the problems he has constructed — and then to reduce the so-called problems to simpler problems, and show these solutions to be implicit in libertarianism. Without solving immediately the dispute between limited-government and anarchist libertarians, this will sustain libertarianism's soundness as a doctrine in the light of scientific principles. Adler states the principle of parsimony as follows:

> The ultimate criterion of theoretical correctness…is the principle of parsimony. The principle works two ways: on the one hand it works NEGATIVELY by imposing the stricture that no theoretical constructs should be resorted to that can be dispensed with in explaining the phenomena; on the other hand, it works POSITIVELY by relaxing the stricture in the direction of justifying the employment of whatever theoretical constructs may be needed to explain the phenomena.
>
> It is this double aspect of the principle of parsimony that I had in mind…when I said that Occam's razor is a two-edged instrument — one that works in opposite directions. It eliminates theoretical constructs that cannot be SHOWN to be necessary for explanatory purposes; but it also justifies the retention of theoretical constructs the need for which can be SHOWN. Here, again, the italicized word is critical. It is not enough for a theorist just to assert that such and such a theoretical construct is needed to explain certain phenomena; he must DEMONSTRATE it, so far as he is able. (_The Difference of Man and the Difference It Makes_, p. 143.)

A theory in science is an attempt to solve a certain type of problem; the same is true of a theory in ethics or political theory. The difference is only that they are attempts to solve different sorts of problems. It is a pity that Adler did not see the relevance of the above to political theory, and that he did not attempt to _show_ both that the problems were real and conceptually meaningfully, and that his concept of government provides a solution which is the simplest possible. If it can be shown to be _unnecessary_, then the construct, and the institution, can be done away with in a strictly scientific manner.

We have already considered the possibility that, indeed, Adler has not made out that there is a world-wide social problem which requires a government at all. Not being a problem, there seems to be no necessity for a “solution”. But surely there is a problem in the earlier model of the three scientists, isn't there? In most senses yes, and it is here that we shall try to provide a solution.

First, what is the problem? Simply stated, that if a means of making decisions binding upon all three is not found, short of unanimity, the “common purpose” will not be attained. Now the proper approach is not to simply take this model for granted — for is the “common purpose” a primary, unalterable purpose absolutely necessary for the survival and well-being of those engaged in it? Or is it, like the expedition, something less important, but still a “common purpose”? In other words, are we to take the achievement of this “common purpose” as an ultimate good, to which everything else is to be sacrificed, or is it a lesser good which can possibly be reconsidered? Except in the case of the most axiomatic and fundamental needs of man, such as the ethical primary of the happy, successful, life, and in particularly difficult contexts, it would appear that no purpose, common or otherwise, need be treated as a self-evident primary, without regard to context or other, more fundamental purposes, without regard to the cost of attaining the end and the other alternatives open to one in reality. To hold to a specific goal out of the context of the lives, alternatives and other factors in those who initially held it, would seem to be irrational. So our first question when the “problem” of the three scientists is posed is: is the achievement of the purpose to be regarded as unchangeable axiomatic, or not? If not, then what becomes of higher values, and who is to decide? Adler's own answer to this must, given his position in _The Time of Our Lives_ and _The Common Sense of Politics_, be based on his Aristotelian premise that the only fundamental obligation of men is to make a good life for themselves. Out-of-context, this has little meaning. But surely situations can arise in an expedition or any other type of association that can give rise to changing values and purposes. Surely in the face of a threat to one's life, one cannot rationally hold, or be expected to hold, the expedition itself, the “success of the common enterprise” as one's highest value. Now suppose that such disagreements or problems as postulated in the problem situation _do_ come up. How and why have they done so? They _may_ be purely procedural, but then again they may not be. We shall deal with libertarianism's solution to the purely procedural problems shortly. But what about the contexts where the disagreements are _not_ of this type, but are rather more fundamental, including, possibly, the question of whether to continue the expedition at all? How should _these_ decisions be made.

Adler does not discuss any of these difficult questions. Yet given his approach to ethics, he must, for he holds that all obligations in ethics to other people must ultimately be traced back to the obligation to make a good life for oneself. Once Adler sacrifices the “good life” of one member of the team to that of the others _as a matter of principle_, by means of taking all ultimate decision-making power out of the hands of those who initially founded the common enterprise, he has undercut the justification for institutions _per se_: that they are a means toward the good life. This is a fundamental problem in political theory, and Adler does not confront it, except to say that _if_ someone someone _initially_ consents to an authority such as a government, then he can subsequently be compelled all over the place, because he has had a hand, however remote in the past, in shaping the institutions which guide his actions. But why should someone rationally place such power in the hands of any institution in an open-ended and eternal manner? Should he not allow for the chance that he has made a mistake, or has changed his mind, or has found a better means for attaining his ends (and government is, remember, necessary only as a means)? Furthermore, there is a particularly interesting question to ask in this context, namely, why is his _past_ consent to be regarded as having primacy over his _present_ will and possibly active _dissent_? Is it to be regarded as sacred merely because it is first? Why? Since man is ceaselessly growing and changing, acquiring new information and knowledge, isn't a non-contextual assent to a government something which contradicts the requirements of human growth and life, and isn't a political theory based on this something which contradicts the requirements of man's nature?

My purpose in bringing up these problems is to show the massive number of issues which Adler skirts — the fundamental issues of political authority and the grounds of consent. For before we reach the government, we must ask, as ethicists, _why_ should men consent to a government in an open-ended fashion? Why is that in their interests; or: how does that contribute to the good life for man? In fact, with his model and his later community-wide context, Adler has not really specified the _problems_ that his government is invented to solve. For before he can ask _how_ he can get everyone to act according to common rules, he must ask _if_ that is desirable.

In any case, obviously there will be conflicts of the sort Adler mentions in society. How would a free society and libertarianism handle them differently? I submit that the basic approach would be different, that it would be reducible to categories in the free market and that the free market provides all the necessary means of setting up a decision-making process, and that solutions to the problem of the disagreements are somewhat simpler with libertarianism than with Adler's system.

First, a point: since there could be conceivably be coercion of one of the parties of one kind or another with either our version of libertarianism or Adler's government, what is the difference? Once again, the answer is supplied by Occam's Razor: if the concept is not needed in an explanatory manner, and if the institution itself is not needed to solve any problems, then we have gotten rid of both of them, so to speak — rid of them in the sense that they are no longer _justified_. If libertarianism can provide a conceptually simpler explanation than Adler, then its acceptance is demanded by recognized scientific procedure. Since many complicated concepts will be involved in a detailed treatment of either case, how does one decide which of two explanations is _simpler_? In this case, simply by observing that the limited government of Adler, the solution to the problem, must involve all the concepts as that of libertarianism, with one additional concept, which we shall not need to bring into our own solution: the concept of government. In other words, the concept is superfluous as a problem-solving technique or institution. Also, more importantly, this approach would prevent us from being dragged into and along Adler's continuum to civil government, and would thus place the burden of proof more solidly on Adler to make out his case, for, as he has said, the necessity of a theoretical construct must be _shown_, and not merely asserted.

Our answer to his problem is actually quite simple, and close to Adler's. Adler's model presupposes several concepts that are unanalyzed, such as the _property_ of the men in the common enterprise, the likelihood that they obtained it through _exchange_, the validity of _contracts_ and so forth. Before people can set out on such an expedition, or pursue any purpose, this is the conceptual baggage, a vital part of the context, which must be checked out, and without which an analysis of the activity would not be complete. What I shall show now is that the method of decision-making for for the enterprise can be decided in a variety of ways, each involving certain categories of the free market.

As Rothbard has shown in _Man, Economy and State_, any action of a human being can be analyzed in terms of exchanges of one sort or another. In human society, Rothbard treats of six types of exchanges: “(a) a commodity for a commodity; such as horses for fish; (b) a commodity for a personal service; such as medical advice for butter…; (c) a personal service for a personal service; such as mutual log-rolling by two settlers…; (d) a commodity for a claim (a claim to a present good, a future commodity, stock, promissory notes), (e) a claim for a service, and (f) a claim for a claim.”

Now assuming that the property titles in all cases of the scientists are legitimate, we will want to analyze the expedition in terms of exchanges involving personal service (including compliance with rules) as one of the terms. This leaves (b), (c) and (e). In any of these ways, by a _contract_, the terms of the expedition can be explicitly specified and agreed upon. Assuming that some kind of contract is drawn up and agreed upon by all members (or else there is no “common enterprise” to worry about), some member or method of deciding the procedures of the expedition will have been established. Anyone who later refuses to go along with the contract will thus be guilty of fraud or some other offense, if he has accepted anything in exchange for his promise to follow certain procedures. He can then be sought after for restitution and so on, with coercion, if necessary, being used — which is legitimate since fraud is a form of implicit theft. He may even leave the expedition, under penalty of having to pay damages.

Now in what sense is this solution to the “problem” any simpler than Adler's? It is certainly _longer_. It is simpler in that _it has integrated the problem and solution into the context of the free market_, has made the terms of the “common purpose” _explicit_ and clearly defined, and has brought property titles and contracts into the issue — all without invoking the theoretical construct (concept and institution of _government_) which would go beyond the concepts here in this analysis. Since the problem can both be adequately described and solved without reference to the construct, Occam's Razor imposes the negative stricture that it should be eliminated, since it can be dispensed with in explaining the phenomena and solving the problem.

Insofar as there is a problem (how to attain the end of the expedition in the context of difficulties with unanimity as a decision-making procedure), the construct of government is not needed. Outside of that realm, there is no problem, which also necessitates no government. In truth, the free market provides the means for achieving virtually _any_ of the productive ends that men have, without requiring them to drop the context of their own hierarchy of needs and purposes. In fact, the free market is _based on_ a contextual theory of values. It allows for the formation of virtually any completely voluntary association for the achievement of really common purposes, without requiring the subordination of _any_ to a dictator, or to a majority vote. And at last we can see a sense in which autonomy _can_ not only be meaningful in society, but is the heart of the libertarian creed: autonomy can be meaningful if we accept and understand the necessity for a system of property titles defining the sphere of decision-making and actions proper for men. Once this is accepted, under libertarianism _every_ man is the ultimate decision-maker, the _owner_, of his own life and property. Barring force and fraud, autonomy need _never_ be abridged in society, if autonomy is understood in the sense of individual sovereignty. It is in this sense, as well, that autonomy in a rational sense is the key to the solution to Adler's problems, i.e. the key to the establishment of the free market.

As for the “problems” for society as a whole (other than keeping the peace, which we shall return to with our treatment of Objectivism), I fail to see what they are, or how any of them necessitate a government. The fallacy lies in part in looking at the concept of “common purposes” without specifying the kinds of referents one is talking about. Suppose that everyone did have the common purpose to live; would that necessitate that we had unanimous consent on means, procedures, and so forth? Would it necessitate the establishment of a world-wide authority to set up rules? If so, _it has not been established_. Furthermore, even if everyone does have the same basic ends, isn't it obvious that they are attained in the most widely diverse manners? And if you and I both have the common purpose to eat, my eating peaches while you eat steak need not _necessitate either_ conflicts or unanimity between us, except on a single principle: that of non-aggression. Again, it might be said that Adler and a great many other Aristotelians and Thomists have never quite realized what the free market is all about, and have stuck with a sort of PTA view of associations and decision-making as the core of their social philosophy. But the diverse ways in which abstract “common purposes” can be concretized and pursued in fact leads us to nothing else than _the_ great problem-solving device: the free market. But, for a further analysis of the structure of production and distribution in a free market (and indeed of the whole structure of the free market) as well as an analysis of the effects of state control or interference, Adler and the Thomists might do well to read the works of Mises and Rothbard, particularly _Man, Economy and State_ and _Power and Market_.

The Thomists might in fact do well to re-examine the entire nature of their arguments from “common purposes”, and the nature of the “common good” itself. (36) Since in many ways this concept of the “common good” is _the_ key concept of the Aristotelian-Thomistic political theory, in that the “common good” is ultimately what the State is organized to promote, we shall now consider this concept, and again see if a government or State is necessary, given Occam's Razor, to attain it — or even if it is _possible_.

For the Thomists and Aristotelians, “a good is anything which completes or perfects us, for example, food.” (37) “The term ‘common’ applies in general to a unity in which many participate. As applied to good it has two meanings: _essential_ and _existential_. A good is essentially common when it is shared in the same way a nature is shared. Although a nature actually exists only as an individual nature, yet it is essentially the same as many other natures, all of which, therefore, can be said to be essentially common. But a good may have another type of commonness which a nature cannot have, and this is existential commonness. A nature cannot have this kind of commonness because John's nature is numerically the nature of John only, not of any other person. … Although these are specifically similar in all men, they are actually and existentially possessions of not only this _one_ man. A good, however, is not so limited in its scope of actual existence: it may have a common as well as ‘individual actuality’.” (38)

Mortimer Adler puts it thus:

> The term ‘common good’ has played a critical role in the preceeding discussion. It has a number of meanings that we must distinguish and keep clear.
>
> One of its meanings derives from that sense of “common” that refers to what is the same in a number of individuals. Thus, all real goods, which satisfy the natural needs of man, are common goods. Human nature being the same in all individual members of the human species, natural needs are the same in all individuals. Real goods being the goods that satisfy natural needs, they, too, are the same for all individuals. Consisting in the possession of all real goods, a really good life or happiness is the same for all men. Happiness or the good life is, therefore, a common good in this sense of the word “common”.
>
> But there is another sense in which something can be common to a number of individuals, not through their participation or sharing in that one thing. Thus, for example, a tract of land is called a “common” when it is not exclusively owned by anyone and is shared by a number of individuals. In this sense, the good of an organized community is a common good in which some (few, many or all) of its members share. When we speak of the good society, the good we are referring to is the goodness of the organized community as such, and this goodness is a common good, one that is shared by or participated in by its members. …
>
> It should now be clear that the common good enters into the considerations of politics in both senses of the term.” (p. 21-22)

Everything from epistemology to metaphysics, from value-theory to property theory, is relevant here in answering this approach to the justification for and proper functions of a government. We shall not cover any more than is absolutely necessary here, recognizing, once again, that this is a highly complex theory which would require volumes to cover in full. On the surface, this type of argument, which moves from the commonness of basic human needs to the need for a common means of fulfilling them, is plausible and interesting. Underneath, it is neither. Let us adopt Cox's distinction between the existential and essential meanings of the term “common good”, taking each in turn.

First, essential commonness. This obviously rests on a basic view of metaphysics and of concept formation, i.e. of epistemology. This view of the “common good” rests on an Aristotelian-Thomistic metaphysics and epistemology; my response rests on Rand's treatment of metaphysics and epistemology. In the Aristotelian philosophy, all that exists are particulars, but the essence or _nature_ of a thing exists _as a nature_ in the thing itself, i.e. it is _metaphysical_. Concepts or universals are literally the abstraction of the exact same nature from two or more particulars. In the Objectivist philosophy, all that exists are particulars, and the nature or essence of something exists as one particular attribute(s) which distinguish one set of units from all others within a particular context of knowledge, i.e. it is _epistemological_. In Aristotelianism, one grasps a universal by abstracting the exact same nature from a number of particulars. In Objectivism, one grasps a concept (or universal) by observing the fact that a number of units possess the same characteristics, in different _measure_ or _degree_, and by integrating all such instances into a single mental entity (a concept) which specifically omits the particular measurements of the units. Thus, to Rand, “a concept is a mental integration of two or more units possessing the same distinguishing characteristic(s), with their particular measurements omitted.” (_Introduction_, p. 17)

This may seem relatively unimportant, but notice what a difference it makes in our approach to essentially common goods. A Thomistic-oriented philosopher such as Mortimer Adler will say that human nature, natural needs, and real goods are “the same for all men”, whereupon he derives his concept of “common goods”. But for the Objectivist, such as myself, it is a different story. For we must hold that what is precisely “common” is the same basic characteristic, which must exist in _some_ measure or degree, but may, within limits, exist in _any_ measure or degree. THE SPECIFIC MEASUREMENT OF THE ESSENTIAL CHARACTERISTIC MAY DIFFER MARKEDLY FROM UNIT TO UNIT.

In his course on _Objectivism's Theory of Knowledge_, Dr. Leonard Peikoff discusses the relevance of such measurements at length, and it is this which we are building on here. For although we can justifiably say that X is good for a certain kind of living entity (man), that does _not_ mean that it is good in the same measure or degree for each and every individual member of that species. The differences can be very broad measurement differences. To say that all human beings possess the same nature is _not_ to say that they possess the same characteristics in the identical measure or degree, but only that they possess the same basic characteristics in _some_ measure or degree. But once this is recognized, the whole argument for the “common good” as being political relevant falls to the ground. For it means that every man may have certain needs as determined by

his nature, but that these needs in their _specific measurements_ may differ greatly. This means that even fundamental needs are contextual when we are considering the means appropriate to attaining them, that they are necessary in different measure or degrees in different contexts, etc. This means that from an assertion that X is good for a species it does not follow that it is either possible or desirable to have one specific institution charged with fulfilling such needs of man, common or not. Food is a “common good” in the sense that it fulfills a natural need of each member of the species, but that does not mean that the same specific food is good for everyone, that the needs are of identical measurement, or that one institution should be charged with providing food for all members of society. Thus the argument for the State from the common good thesis in this respect is inadequate.

The Thomists contrast their “positive” view of the role of State action (in the sense of promoting the common good in addition to negatively preserving peace) with the Lockean “negative” view, which would only have the State prevent some men from harming others. But since any action of the State to actually promote the “common good” must be concrete (such as the welfare State, which most Thomists support in some measure), and since there has been _no_ proof that the State _can_ promote the common good in this sense, there is no proof here that the State is necessary at all. In fact, _any_ attempt by the State to promote the material or other well-being of the people is by its very nature doomed to failure, for the State is not a productive agent, and only has to distribute what it first confiscates from the rest of society. If it does not confiscate outright, then it redirects production away from market-established channels into other areas, which again in effect merely creates some beneficiaries and some victims.

Furthermore, even if this concept of the “common good”, i.e. the essentialistic view, _were_ valid, it does not follow that the State can promote it. This must be _established_, and not merely asserted. Rothbard has shown in _Man, Economy and State_, in the section on collective goods and external benefits, that there is _no need_ for the government to concern itself with either of these. And that, of course, is merely Occam’s Razor putting this argument for State action to rest.

What of the other view, in the sense which a tract of land is held in “common”, i.e. the _existential_ sense of commonness? We can divide this up into material and non-material goods: we have already seen in our section on property that the entire structure of the free market must begin with the acts of exchange of specific individuals. In fact, this approach of methodological individualism to the problem of collective property (or “goods”) is the only possible means of analyzing the problem, since any community or collective is composed of individual units. This means that any collective or common property (material goods) can _only_ arise by derivation, so to speak, from individual property titles. This, indeed, was the entire fallacy of Locke, Spencer, and the Georgist theories of land ownership: they begin with the supposition that _no individual_ owns the land and miraculously leap to the conclusion that therefore _society_ must own it, i.e. _everyone_ must own it. But this is invalid; first, it eliminates the other option, namely that the land is initially _unowned_, and second because it attributes to a class a property not found in its members. So if all collective property or “common goods” in the material sense must arise derivatively from individual ownership, we can easily solve the Thomistic problem. For the problem here was precisely that there were such common goods or property, and that _therefore_ the State was necessary for the protection and maintenance of it. But: (a) the Thomists have not shown why common goods in this sense _must_ exist, and (b) they have not shown why the institution to take care of those that _do must_ be a State.

But very well. How can we libertarians solve the problem? It is so simple that I hesitate to state it: since all collective property in this material sense is logically derived from individual property, all that has to be done is that the individuals concerned can specify the means of controlling the property henceforth, which means: they merely have to form some kind of a _corporation_ agreement. _This_ will provide the most sought-after means of caring for the “common” property. For all groups in this sense are specific, with identifiable members who can easily establish an agreement before merging their property with that of others into “common goods”. But what about the “commons” in the sense of the land in England? Has not _that_ in fact preceeded individuals, and isn’t _that_ common property? Actually, cases such as this are instances where the State or other coercive institutions have withheld certain land from individual appropriation, or have actually seized individual land from its rightful owners. In the first case, the solution is to lay it open for such individual appropriation (which individuals then assume control _and_ responsibility); in the second, the solution is to return it to the victim or his heirs.

Again, there are no problems here which libertarianism cannot settle without resorting to the _necessity_ of the State.

There is one final sense in which the term “common good” is used as a justification for the State or State action: the “immaterial goods” such as “the organized community” and innumerable other things. However, a great many immaterial goods and services are constantly managed and handled by the processes of a free market, so it is difficult to see what the problem is. In the case of things like an “organized community” we must ask:

just what is meant by “organized”? “Organized” in what sense? Since all human action is purposeful or functional in some sense, it is difficult to see what is meant by “disorganized” community. But what this argument boils down to is either the old “collective goods” argument for State action, or the argument from “external benefits”. This is discussed at length at Rothbard’s _Man, Economy and State_, and I shall not repeat his argument here. The question is “what are the problems?” And “why is government necessary to solve them?”

The main thrust of the Aristotelian-Thomistic argument for the State has thus been answered. Let us clear up a side issue, and wrap things up. The side issue is something that has been neglected, though raised: the issue of the _titles_ to political legitimacy (as opposed to the _grounds_ of State authority, which we have been considering). We have so far only raised one question: why should a rational person give what is in effect a blank check, an open-ended consent, to a government? But other key issues remain, especially surrounding Adler’s concept of the necessity for initial _unanimous consent_. Remember his own statements: “government itself cannot be instituted by a majority vote or by the decision of a leader, since the the authority of a leader of a majority is the very thing being instituted. Hence the institution of government itself, together with the delegation of authority to an elected leader or to a majority, must be accomplished by the _unanimous consent_ of the parties involved. . . .” Adler correctly notes in a footnote that “the only alternative to the institution of authority is the imposition by force of an agency for decision-making.” Why cannot governments legitimately come to power initially by means of force? Many Thomistic writers, including Michael Cronin, do in fact claim that conquest secures a legitimate title to authority. Why is he wrong? I suggest two reasons: (a) if the basic reason why man needs a government (the grounds of the authority of the State) flows out of “common purposes”, then to securely establish government as a means to that end, which is all that it is, the institution itself must flow out of human choices and purposes. Or: the means must be suitable to the end. Besides, there is no other means of establishing the _individual’s_ obligation to obey the political authority (though I do not think that even _this_ has been shown to flow from initial consent); and (b) conquest and force have earlier in this essay been shown to be detrimental to man’s happiness and well-being. Thus if they led to legitimate titles of authority, then an end that was pro-human well-being could be attained by a means which has been _shown_ to be fundamentally destructive of precisely that end. Thus our only option is to go with Adler.

Now this puts Adler in a very strange position, one which I, for one, am happy to see him in: namely, the position of denying the present legitimacy of _all_ governments, since the titles to authority of not a one of them was gained by unanimous consent (or even majority vote, incidentally).

But Adler spots this implication, and attempts to plug up the hole in the dyke before the waters of anarchism burst its walls. Making a distinction between _de facto_ government (a government in fact) and _de jure_ government (government by right, by right by legitimate title), Adler says that “the anarchist has described, with some degree of pardonable exaggeration, _de facto_ government, which is imposed by force and maintained by force, government without duly constituted authority, without consenting constituents and participating citizens.” He says that even if the anarchist grants the distinction between the two, he is likely to dismiss the latter (_de jure_) as a myth, as “practically meaningless because inapplicable to existing in-institutions, past, present or future.” But then, after asserting the legitimacy of the distinction _per se_, Adler writes: “Passing from the conceptual place to the world of existing institutions, the existence of constitutional governments and of states that are republics would appear to be an undeniable historic fact.” Now this has not been shown, especially when the issue is _unanimous consent_ as the only valid title of political authority _per se_. Adler admits this in a sense — without backing out of his assertion that the distinction applies to historical reality — in saying that the anarchist “could say, and rightly, in my judgement, that in all the republics of the past and present, consent of the governed was actually only obtained from a portion of the population: only some men were consenting constituents and participating citizens, and they comprised the ruling class. The residue, subject to their rule, suffered under government that, for them, was purely _de facto_.” This is substantially correct.

But Adler then, through several chapters and pages of arguments, attempts to smuggle something in on the reader: HE IMPLICITLY MAINTAINS THAT VOTING FROM WITHIN AN ESTABLISHED POLITICAL SYSTEM IN SOME WAY INDICATES FUNDAMENTAL CONSENT TO THE POLITICAL SYSTEM _PER SE_. This is crucial, for instead of calling for the levelling of all existing governments to the ground, upon which base new governments, obtaining unanimous consent, could be built, Adler implies that it is _logically possible_ to retain existing governments and, by a process of voting, conclude that unanimous consent, or even majority consent, of the political authority itself has somehow been established.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Since Adler has not undertaken to prove his assumption, we shall once again bring in Occam’s Razor. The concept of “consent” in a political context is a theoretical construct of sorts. We shall try to show that the facts to which Adler points as indications of consent can be explained by other, simpler, means, and that this therefore means we should eliminate the concept of consent not as a standard of political legitimacy (fundamental legitimacy), but as a specific attempt to explain the facts of voting and suffrage. I emphasize Adler’s statement in his treatment of Occam’s Razor that such assertions must be shown to be necessary to explain certain phenomena. We shall not be making the argument here against Adler ourselves; instead, we shall rely on the great radical individualist naturalrights anarchist Lysander Spooner (\*No Treason\*, Nos. 1 and 2):

> The question, then, returns, What is implied in \> a government’s resting on consent? \> \> Manifestly this one thing (to say nothing of \> others) is necessarily implied in the idea of a \> government’s resting on consent, viz. THE SEP- \> ARATE, INDIVIDUAL CONSENT OF EVERY MAN \> WHO IS REQUIRED TO CONTRIBUTE, EITHER BY \> TAXATION OR PERSONAL SERVICE, TO THE \> SUPPORT OF THE GOVERNMENT. (Or, in Adler’s \> terms, the individual consent of every member of the \> “common enterprise”.) All this, or nothing, is \> necessarily implied, because one man’s consent is \> just as necessary as any other man’s. If, for exam- \> ple, A claims that his consent is necessary to the \> establishment or maintenance of government, he \> thereby necessarily admits that B’s and every other \> man’s are equally necessary; because B’s and every \> other man’s rights are just as good as his own. On \> the other hand, if he denies that B’s or any other \> particular man’s consent is necessary, he thereby \> necessarily admits that neither his own, nor any \> other man’s is necessary; and that government need \> not be founded on consent at all. \> \> There is, therefore, no alternative but to say, \> either that the separate, individual consent of every \> man, WHO IS REQUIRED TO AID, IN ANY WAY, \> IN SUPPORTING THE GOVERNMENT, is necessary, \> or that the consent of no one is necessary. (_NO \> TREASON_, No. 1)

So much for Spooner’s analysis of what is implied in the concept of “consent of the governed.” Now his statement on why voting does not prove consent:

> In truth, in the case of. individuals, their actual \> voting is not to be taken as proof of consent, EVEN \> FOR THE TIME BEING (let alone as consent for \> political authority AS SUCH—RAC). On the con- \> trary, it is to be considered that, without his con- \> sent ever having been asked, a man finds himself \> environed by a government that he cannot resist; a \> government that forces him to pay money, render \> service, and forgo the exercise of many of his na- \> tural rights, under peril of weighty punishments. \> He sees, too, that other men practice this tyranny \> over him by use of the ballot. He sees further that, \> if he will but use the ballot himself, he has some \> chance of relieving himself from this tyranny of \> others, by subjecting them to his own. In short, he \> finds himself, without his consent, so situated that, \> if he use the ballot, he may become a master; if he \> does not use it, he must become a slave. And he \> has no other alternative than these two. In self- \> defense, he attempts the former. His case is analo- \> gous to that of a man who has been forced into bat- \> tle, where he must either kill others or be killed \> himself. BECAUSE TO SAVE HIS OWN LIFE IN \> BATTLE, A MAN ATTEMPTS TO TAKE THE \> LIVES OF HIS OPPONENTS, IT IS NOT TO BE \> INFERRED THAT THE BATTLE IS ONE OF HIS \> OWN CHOOSING. Neither in contests with the \> ballot—which is a mere substitute for a bullet— \> because, as his only chance of self-preservation, a \> man uses a ballot, is it to be inferred that the con- \> test is one into which he voluntarily entered; that \> he voluntarily sets up all his own natural rights, as \> a stake against those of others, to be lost or won \> by the mere power of numbers. On the contrary, it \> is to be considered that, in an exigency, into which \> he had been forced by others, and in which no other \> means of self-defense offered, he, as a matter of \> necessity, used the only one that was left to him. \> \> Doubtless the most miserable of men, under \> the most oppressive government in the world, if \> allowed the ballot, would use it, if they could see \> any chance of thereby ameliorating their condition. \> But it would not therefore be a legitimate inference \> that the government itself, that crushed them, was \> one which they voluntarily set up, or ever consented \> to. (_NO TREASON_, No. 2, my emphases)

What Spooner has shown is that it is not necessary to resort to the concept of consent to explain why people avail themselves of an opportunity to cast a ballot. Thus, by the principle of parsimony, Adler’s new version of the “implied consent” doctrine is laid to rest. What we have everywhere at all times is _de facto_ governments which are never _de jure_. Is such a _de jure_ government possible? Let us even grant Adler’s concept of government: I think that it is not possible, for needing unanimous consent to get started, in my view, places an insurmountable obstacle in the path. Any statement about possibility, in this context and on this issue, amounts to little more than a prediction concerning what people will or will not choose to do in the future. From our present context of knowledge, we can safely say that unanimous consent is a practical impossibility.

And thus government is, in Adler’s terms, either practical and immoral, or impractical and moral. Such a dilemma, I suggest, is itself enough to cause us to rethink our political premises.

With this our discussion of the Aristotelian- Thomistic position comes to an end. What we have seen is that there is no justification for government here which holds up under rational scrutiny, and simultaneously that all the problems which allegedly gave rise to the necessity of government can be more easily solved and conceived of in other terms (with the exception of keeping the peace, which we shall treat later). Since Thomists are today a very large force behind the welfare state, against libertarianism, and in favour of a world government, we should hope that the length of this treatment has been justified. The State has not been.

## Footnotes

1. For a variety of treatises on politics in the Aristotelian-Thomistic tradition, and for discussions of this approach, see: Aristotle, _Politics_; Thomas Aquinas, “Treatise on Law”, in _Summa Theologica_; Francisco Suarez, _De Legibus_ (partially translated); Frederick Copleston, _A History of Philosophy_, Vol. 1-3; Michael Cronin, _The Science of Ethics_, 2 vol.; A Fagothy, _Right and Reason_; Mortimer J. Adler, _The Time of Our Lives_ and _The Common Sense of Politics_; John Plamanetz, _Consent, Freedom and Political Obligation_; Reijo Wilenius, _The Social and Political Philosophy of Francisco Suarez_, in “Acta Philosophica Fennica”, XV, (Helsinki, 1963); Bluntschilli, _Theory of the State_; Yves Simon, _Freedom and Community, A General Theory of Authority_, and _Philosophy of Democratic Government_; Jacques Maritain, _Rights of Man and Natural Law_ and _Man and the State_; Ernest Barker, _The Political Thought of Plato and Aristotle_; John F. Cox, _A Thomistic Analysis of the Social Order_ (Ph.D. Diss., Catholic U. of America, 1943). Two particularly good treatments are those of Cronin and Adler. Also, in considering Ayn Rand a part of this tradition, it will not be considered here whether or not she is original, insofar as this is irrelevant to the argument. To be in a tradition means to have certain objective characteristics in common.
2. For the sake of brevity, we will draw only on one source here for this discussion of Thomistic ethics—Frederick Copleston’s _A History of Philosophy_, Vol. 2, Pt. II, paper. All page numbers refer to this book.
3. In my opinion, the real originality of Rand in ethics consists of her establishment of the principle that man’s life is man’s standard of value, by means of identifying the context, root, and nature of purposes _per se_, and of her working out of a detailed normative ethic which reduces virtues to relationships between consciousness and existence. Neither, however, has been worked out systematically and in detail.
4. See: _The State_, by Franz Oppenheimer; _Our Enemy, the State_, by Albert Jay Nock; “Anarchists Progress”, by Nock; _On Power_, by Bertrand de Jouvenel; “Anatomy of the State”, by Murray N. Rothbard; _Our Oriental Heritage_, by Will Durant, etc.
5. _The Common Sense of Politics_, by Mortimer J. Adler (New York: Holt, Rinehart \& Winston, 1971). I do not want to commend Adler too highly here, for although he has devoted a full quarter of this book to discussing anarchism and the necessity of government, he has misrepresented the doctrines of anarchism again and again. Furthermore, he is not careful in his classification or categories of anarchism, something quite uncharacteristic of Adler. Also, although he shows a wide familiarity with anarchist texts, he shows almost no familiarity with the whole individualist anarchist line in American political thought; no mention of Warren, Andrews, Labadie, Walter, or, disgustingly, Tucker or Spooner, even though he shows familiarity with works in which selections by Tucker and Spooner are prominent. In particular, Tucker’s arguments concerning “the State as Aggression” and Spooner’s on the idea of the social contract and suffrage are both critically relevant to Adler’s case. Spooner, in fact, is perhaps the first anarchist to be in the Aristotelian-Thomistic Lockean tradition. Furthermore, Adlershows no familiarity with the key work of Eltzbacher, Martin, Silverman, and a host of other historians and anthologizers of anarchist doctrines. Adler has, then, set up a straw man to assassinate, because he has concentrated almost entirely on the European collectivist anarchist line of thought, which shares nothing in common with the Aristotelian-Thomistic political tradition and which is easy for other anarchists to refute.
6. For a critique of some aspects of this, see Tibor Machan, “Some Considerations of the Common Good”, in _Journal of Human Relations_, Fall 1970; Murray N. Rothbard, “The Fallacy of the Public Sector”, in _New Individualist Review_, Vol. 1, No. 2, Summer 1961; and Ayn Rand, “What is Capitalism?” in _Capitalism: the Unknown Ideal_.
7. John F. Cox, _A Thomistic Analysis of the Social Order_ (Ph.D. Diss., Catholic University of America, 1943).
8. _Ibid_., p. 54.

_R. A. Childs, Jr., is an Associate Editor of the INDIVIDUALIST and Editor of the SIL SERVICES BULLETIN. His articles have also appeared in Reason and the Rampart Journal._