What did Milton Friedman have to say about human flourishing?

Who cares? I care for several reasons. Milton Friedman stands out as one of a small number of intellectuals who had a favourable influence on public policy in the 20^th century. Today – July 31, 2012 - is the 100^th anniversary of his birth.  This blog is about freedom and flourishing. And I am wondering how the (provisional) title of the book I am writing, ‘Free to Flourish’, might be perceived. It is a fairly obvious title given the content of the book, but I hope it might be viewed as an appropriate tribute to Milton Friedman, who with his wife, Rose, wrote a better book, entitled ‘Free to Choose’, which was first published in 1979.

I have not been able to find instances where Milton Friedman referred to human flourishing directly in his published works. His references to happiness seem to be mainly in the context of recognition that people have a right to pursue it as they see fit. He argued that the freedom of the individual should be seen as the ultimate goal in judging social arrangements and that a free society releases the energies and abilities of people to pursue their own objectives.It is reasonably clear that he thought the vast majority of people would be successful in pursuing their own objectives but he does not seem to have made specific claims to that effect. I expect he would probably have endorsed the sentiment of Friedrich Hayek that 'it may even be that liberty exercises its beneficial effects as much through the discipline it imposes on us as through the more visible opportunities it offers' (Constitution of Liberty, 1960:18). 

Friedman was certainly careful not to claim freedom as ‘an all-embracing ethic’:

‘Indeed, a major aim of the liberal is to leave the ethical problem for the individual to wrestle with. The “really” important ethical problems are those that face an individual in a free society – what he should do with his freedom’ (‘Capitalism and Freedom’, 1962: 12).

For the benefit of readers who have come to view the liberal label as signifying support for ever-greater government regulation, I should point out that Friedman was using the word liberalism ‘in its original sense – as the doctrines pertaining to a free man’.

Friedman was also mindful of the need to acknowledge a limited case for government action on paternalistic grounds. He wrote:

‘Freedom is a tenable objective only for responsible individuals. We do not believe in freedom for madmen or children’. He pondered the point deeply:

‘The paternalistic ground for government activity is in many ways the most troublesome to a liberal; for it involves the acceptance of a principle – that some shall decide for others – which he finds objectionable in most applications and which he rightly regards as a hallmark of his chief intellectual opponents, the proponents of collectivism in one or another of its guises, whether it be communism, socialism, or a welfare state. Yet there is no use pretending that problems are simpler than in fact they are. There is no avoiding the need for some measure of paternalism’ (‘Capitalism and Freedom’, p 33-4).

However, Friedman would have been alarmed by the modern tendency for all citizens to be treated like children - with the potential for a war on obesity (beginning perhaps with an assault on marketing of soft drinks) to be added to the war on drugs. He argued:

‘Insofar as the government has information not generally available about the merits or demerits of the items we ingest or the activities we engage in, let it give us the information. But let it leave us free to choose what chances we want to take with our own lives’ (‘Free to Choose’, p 227).

Friedman was particularly concerned about the adverse social effects of paternalistic welfare programs:

‘Their major evil is their effect on the fabric of society. They weaken the family; reduce the incentive to work, save and innovate; reduce the accumulation of capital; and limit our freedom’ (‘Free to Choose’, p 127).

It seems to me that one of the most important contributions that Friedman made was his support for efforts to measure economic freedom. In a discussion published in the preface to the 2002 ‘Economic Freedom of the World Report’, Friedman stressed the importance of measurement of economic freedom to development of a better understanding of the concept:

‘There's a phrase written on the entrance to one of the social sciences buildings at the University of Chicago: "When you cannot measure something, your knowledge is meager and unsatisfying." In the process of measuring, you find that measuring is a form of definition. It isn't just that there's economic freedom out there to be measured. In the process of measuring it, we're going to define what economic freedom is. We don't really know what we have, what economic freedom is, unless we've gotten to the point of trying to measure it and see what variables it consists of, and what each of those means. Over the course of time, we have gotten a much more sophisticated understanding of what we mean when we talk about economic freedom.’

In the same discussion he made a plea for economic freedom to be seen in the context of freedom more generally:

‘In looking to the future, I believe one has to be careful not to over-emphasize the role of economic freedom as a source of economic growth, as compared with the role of economic freedom as a part of freedom, of human freedom.

We've talked about economic and political freedom as if they were wholly separate things, which they are not. I think the next big task facing the economic freedom project will be to try to weld the two together and make a combined index of economic and political freedom, especially where they mesh with one another. Property rights are not only a source of economic freedom. They are also a source of political freedom. That's what really got us interested in economic freedom in the first place. Some of the elements in the Freedom House index seem to me to be inconsistent with some of the elements in our index, and it would seem to be useful to see how to reconcile those two and put them on the same philosophical basis.’

One of the features of Friedman’s writings is the importance he placed on political freedoms. His argument for economic freedom was based, in part, on the view that it is ‘an indispensable means toward the achievement of political freedom’. He saw political freedom – the absence of coercion of a man by his fellow men – as requiring the elimination of concentration of power to the greatest extent possible. He argued that competitive capitalism promotes political freedom because it disperses power – it separates economic power from political power and in this way enables the one to offset the other.

Friedman deserves the praise he has received for his academic accomplishments in economics, but he also deserves praise for his efforts to persuade his fellow citizens of his views about freedom. He knew that he had an important message to convey and he did his best to spread it as far as possible. In the final paragraph of ‘Capitalism and Freedom’ he wrote:

‘I believe we shall be able to preserve and extend freedom … . But we shall be able to do so only if we awake to the threat we face, only if we persuade our fellow men that free institutions offer a surer, if perhaps at times a slower, route to the ends they seek than the coercive power of the state.’

Milton Friedman put his faith in the ability of his followers to persuade their fellow citizens, rather than in his own ability to influence governments directly.

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The site:  www.freetochoose.tv is hosting a 24-hour "Friedman Freedom Festival" beginning 12:00 a.m. US Eastern Time July 31st and running until 12:00a.m. Aug. 1st. It will be a continuously playing list of Friedman talks, musicians from around the world and shorter clips of Friedman - most of which have rarely seen before.

Postscript 1:
Jim Belshaw has a post: 'Friedman, Freedom and Paternalism' in which he kindly refers to this post and some of the discussion below. Jim adopts a definition of paternalism as the state 'telling people what to do'. That is paternalistic, but I need to think more about the issue. My initial reaction is that wealth redistribution is also paternalistic - it is akin to a father taking toys off one child (on the grounds that she has too many) and giving them to her younger brother (who is deemed to have too few). I find it much easier to accept that it might be fair for a father (or mother) to make such a redistribution within their family (hopefully with the consent of the kids concerned) than to accept the validity of Wayne Swan's attempts to apply that ethic to the whole of society.

Jim also refers to a post by Lorenzo; 'Friedman's Century', which has links to several other sites with relevant comments.

Regarding my reference above to the obesity epidemic, Greg Dwyer has referred me to an excellent article entitled 'Sugar Sickness' by New Zealand medical doctor, MacDoctor, who points out the futility of proposals for governments to tax sugar etc. One day the paternalists (or are they nannies?) responsible for the wars against personal responsibility will realize that they are making matters worse.

Postscript 2:

Having looked at common usage of 'paternalism', I now think Jim and kvd are right. It entails limiting the liberty of some person or group in order to protect them.

Milton Friedman also seems to be right in his claim that the motivations of Bismark and the British Tories in creating the welfare state were paternalistic i.e. directed toward protecting people from harm. (Their motives were also political i.e. cutting the grounds from under their social democratic opponents). It is interesting that 'paternalistic' doesn't seem to imply that the action is against the will of the person being protected.

My supposition that Wayne Swan has paternalistic motives in arguing for wealth redistribution is probably wrong. His motives might be better described as egalitarian.

Should punishment be about retribution or deterrence?

One of the things I found particularly interesting in ‘Who’s in Charge?’ by Michael Gazzaniga, is experimental evidence suggesting that people who believe they have free will tend to be better behaved than those who believe in determinism. People who don’t believe they have free will are apparently less likely to control their impulses to act selfishly or aggressively. This might be an instance where a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.

The main point made by Gazzaniga – who is referred to as the father of cognitive neuroscience – is that individual responsibility is a dimension of life that cannot be illuminated by analysing single brains in isolation. In isolation, single brains seem to be governed by unconscious intentions – awareness comes after the event. Individual responsibility comes from social exchange. If we want to understand how individuals are responsible for their actions we need to look at the whole picture of a brain interacting with other brains.

Readers who are interested in a general overview of the book should read the review by Benedict Carey in the NYT.

Gazzaniga discusses the question of whether punishment should be retributive or utilitarian near the end of his book. Retributive justice is concerned primarily with giving criminals the punishment they deserve – the crucial variable is the degree of moral outrage the crime engenders. Utilitarian justice is concerned primarily with the future good of society. The author suggests that means it is concerned with deterrence, incapacitation (e.g. jailing criminals to prevent them from re-offending) and rehabilitation.

The interesting point is that although many people label themselves deterrists rather than retributivists, when it comes to actually handing out punishments self-labelling counts for little – people have a strong tendency to behave as retributivists. Irrespective of what they say, they tend to punish for harm done even when there is little likelihood that the person will re-offend in future.

Gazzaniga suggests that retributive justice has deep moral foundations in human evolution. We can use abstract consequentialist thinking when faced with abstract questions of public policy, but we resort to fairness judgements when faced with an individual who is to be punished.

For example, should harsh sentences be applied to minor offences to increase the deterrence effect? If you think about it in abstract terms, sending a person to prison for a relatively minor first offence (e.g. low range drink driving) might seem likely to increase the sum total of human happiness by deterring others from an anti-social behaviour that endangers human life. But would it be fair to hand out punishments that are disproportionate to the additional risks involved in particular instances?

Consider a more extreme example. Should judges make an example of celebrities by giving them greater punishment for minor offences? Since the punishment of celebrities would receive greater publicity it could be expected to have a greater deterrent effect, but in my view it would still be unfair.

Does utilitarianism necessarily imply that it is OK to impose unfair sacrifices on individuals for the future good of society? No. Some people who subscribe to utilitarianism, as a theory of normative ethics which views human happiness as the fundamental value judgement or ultimate criterion, consider the best test of actions or rules of action to be the extent to which they promote social cooperation. For example, Henry Hazlitt argued that ‘for each of us social cooperation is the great means of attaining nearly all our ends’. He noted that social cooperation ‘has the great advantage that no unanimity with regard to value judgements is required to make it work’. It enables the disparate goals of different individuals to be reconciled and harmonized. (‘The Foundations of Morality’: 35-36).

Leland Yeager has argued:

‘Regardless of just what plausible interpretation we give to happiness, social cooperation is prerequisite to its effective pursuit. Lying, cheating, and stealing subvert happiness because they subvert the prerequisite cooperation. Telling the truth, keeping promises, and respecting other people’s rights and property are conducive to cooperation. We come to believe propositions like these through factual and logical analysis of what conditions help individuals pursue their own diverse goals effectively’ (‘Ethics as Social Science’, 2001: 83).

Yeager also makes the point:

‘Emphasis on voluntary cooperation warns against imposing unfair sacrifices on individuals for the supposed greater good of a greater number’ (p. 82).

This line of reasoning suggests to me that if social cooperation is the objective we should be seeking retribution i.e. giving criminals the punishment that they deserve – even if we are sufficiently civilized not to seek pleasure from their suffering.

Michael Gazzaniga comes to a similar conclusion in looking at the issue from an evolutionary perspective. He suggests that humans have evolved to cooperate on a massive scale with unrelated others partly by punishing noncooperators. He leaves us to ponder: ‘If we don’t incapacitate the offenders, will the noncooperators take over and society fall apart?’

Postscript:
I was aware that I was being provocative in coming out in favour of retribution, when the point I was really trying to make is that justice should be primarily about fairness rather than deterrence. (As I acknowledge in response to a comment from kvd, however, there is an element of deterrence involved in fair punishment.) Retribution may mean giving people fair punishment but it can be mistaken for vengeance. Jim Belshaw had an interesting post yesterday about vengeance - which I largely agree with.

Comments from TBT (below) prompt me to acknowledge that I hope that evolution in public perceptions of fairness might enable able us to move further towards some kind of restorative system of justice. 

Can democracy protect liberty?

In January 2011 I wrote on this blog about my personal conviction that liberty is necessary to human flourishing because individual flourishing is an inherently self-directed process. That led me to ask where the greatest challenge to liberty comes from. I came to the conclusion that the greatest challenge to liberty comes from people who do not mean anyone any harm – people who live among us who want us all to have happier lives. These people threaten liberty because they use their democratic rights to support policies that involve governments acting as guardians of the well-being of citizens – even to the point of protecting individuals from making bad choices - rather than for protecting their right to live as they choose. I saw the political choices my fellow citizens were making as a threat to liberty.

Now, wind the clock forward to the beginning of this month, when I asked myself: ‘What is the greatest threat to human flourishing?’ My answer: the failure of democracy. In my view the greatest threat that people in high-income countries face over the next few decades is that democratic governments will not be able to cope with the increasing demands that seem likely to be placed upon them. In my view this would have adverse flow-on implications for human flourishing in other countries.

If I see current trends in democracies as a threat to liberty, why should I see risks to democracy as a threat to human flourishing?

When you start asking yourself questions like that it is probably time to read Robert Higgs’ new book, ‘Delusions of Power’ (synopsis here). Higgs encourages people to go back to first principles in thinking about the role of government. 

Here are some of the important points he makes:

• James Madison’s famous passage about neither government, nor external or internal controls on government, being necessary ‘if men were angels’ is an enormously seductive instance of question begging. Recognition of human fallibility does not establish that individuals would voluntarily choose to submit to the authority of the state rather than to remain in a stateless condition.
• Mancur Olson’s claim (in ‘Power and Prosperity’) that anarchy ‘increases the incentive to steal and to defend against theft, and thereby reduces the incentive to produce’ could be true relative to the ‘nirvana’ benchmark of ‘an appropriate peaceful order’. In the real world, however, there may actually be less incentive for productive effort under a state, because, to use Higgs’ words, it is ‘a standing invitation to (legal) theft for all who can gain a grip on any of its many levers of power’.
• The evidence of history shows that the belief that it is the role of the state to defend the individual’s right to life, liberty and property is closer to wishful thinking than a description of how states have actually functioned.
• Some major political decisions in the United States – such as involvement in the First World War and the expansion of federal government responsibilities during the great depression – were contrary to the political platforms of the presidents concerned in the preceding elections.
• During war times and other crises, governments are given strong public support to impose many restrictions on freedom that would not be tolerated during normal times. Having tolerated them, however, many people may come to regard them as normal or even desirable. This is the basis for a ratchet phenomenon where expansion of government during a crisis has not been fully reversed following a crisis.

It seems likely that some stateless societies that have existed in the past were relatively good places to live – that is, relative to other societies at the same time. So, why didn’t those relatively good societies thrive and evolve into libertarian utopias? The most obvious answer is that these societies were not able to survive invasion by neighbouring states, led by people like Henry VIII. Higgs acknowledges the point:

‘We also need to consider the likely outcome if our society has no state, but another society does, and that state has the capacity to harm us greatly and, for whatever reason, seeks to do so. I am not convinced that this particular problem is insoluble, and, indeed, I believe that the states defenders have blown it out of all proportion, but I do not dismiss it entirely’.

If I try hard enough I can imagine circumstances where coercion by the state might wither away so that, eventually, somewhere in the world, citizens will one day opt to establish some kind of libertarian utopia to replace democratic institutions. Perhaps experiments with charter cities might help this process. It would be possible, even in a modern society, for the useful functions of government to be performed by private contractors and voluntary organizations. I don’t know how such a society would overcome free-rider problems arising from provision of some public goods, but coercion associated with tax collection might not be an essential characteristic of all societies for all time to come.

So, why do I see the failure of democracy as a threat to human flourishing? The failure of democracy that I am concerned about seems unlikely to result in its replacement by superior institutions. In many instances, the institutions of representative government may actually remain in place, but they will have become completely meaningless. We can already see some signs of this failure beginning to emerge. Some political leaders seek to win popular support by using focus groups to help them develop nice-sounding but meaningless slogans, rather than seeking to gain support for policies to underpin future economic security. Governments that have already taken on more responsibilities than they can cope with are constantly pressured to accept additional responsibilities. The right to vote has already become hollow in some countries in Europe. It is difficult for voters to punish political parties for past errors when the major parties all share responsibility. All options available to voters become unpalatable when democratic governments are burdened by excessive debt.

In some countries the institutions of democracy are likely to come under threat as a result of rioting and other forms of public disorder. Democratic governments may be replaced by authoritarian regimes that have less regard to economic security or citizen’s rights. It is possible that members of such governments might have a greater interest in restoring economic freedom and expanding opportunities available to citizens than in self-enrichment, but there is no a priori reason to expect that to be so. The only certainty is that the new leaders will be more difficult to remove from office than democratically elected politicians.

In the end, it seems to me that there is no inconsistency between viewing recent trends in democracy as a threat to liberty and viewing the increasing risks to democracy as a threat to human flourishing. Some of the institutional changes that are needed to discourage democratic governments from taking on more responsibilities than they can cope with will also reduce the threat to liberty. I think Robert Higgs is on the right track in suggesting the need for changes in the machinery of government to make it more difficult for ill-considered and poorly justified measures to be adopted during a crisis. It would also be useful to consider what institutional changes might enable some future crises to be avoided. Perhaps democracy could protect liberty.

Can democracies adapt?

While reading Tim Harford’s book, ‘Adapt’, I was thinking about the implications for democracy of the theme running through the book. I have been thinking a lot about democracy recently.

The theme is what Harford refers to as Palchinsky’s principles:

1. Variation: seek out new ideas and experiment.
2. Survivability: ensure that the scale of experiments is not so big that failure leads to catastrophe.
3. Selection: seek feedback and learn from failures.

The theme is also captured fairly well by the books sub-title: ‘Why success always starts with failure’.

Peter Palchinsky was a talented engineer in the Soviet Union. He was arrested by the secret police in 1928 and never seen again. His main ‘crime’ seems to have been that he refused to recant after he had been denounced for objecting to looming technological disasters.

Harford applies Palchinsky’s principles to a wide range of things, including the management of the war in Iraq by the US miltary, the events leading to the design of the Spitfire in England prior to World War 2, provision of foreign aid, climate change mitigation, financial meltdowns, corporate strategy and self-management.

One of the points that came through strongly to me is that even hierarchical military organizations need to learn strategy from their experiences in the field. I knew that was true of big business organizations, but I had not previously thought of armies as having to experiment in order to find the best approach to adopt in different conflicts. It seems that senior people in the US military were not aware of that either during much of their occupation of Iraq.

Harford’s discussion of the global financial crisis seems sensible. He suggests that the failure of experiments with sub-prime mortgages would not have led to a major financial crisis in the absence of tight coupling in financial markets via credit default swaps. These appeared to provide the banks with a greater margin of safety, but actually linked their fortunes closely to insurance companies. As a consequence, the sub-prime mortgage problem was transmitted from insurance companies to banks (and then to governments). The solution is obvious with hindsight - decouple the system so that banks are less likely to fail and the failure of individual banks does not lead to system failure. I would add that governments should adopt a ‘no bailouts’ policy and back that up with a requirement for banks to guarantee immediate and automatic transfer of ownership of all assets to depositors and bond holders if they (the banks) are unable to meet their interest or repayment obligations.

The points about self-management were not new to me. But it didn’t hurt to be reminded of the importance of trying new things in a context where failure is survivable - and of being prepared to learn from failure. It helps to remember that the failure of our experiments does not necessarily reflect on our competence unless we fail to learn from them.

The closest Tim Harford comes to discussing democracy in this book is his discussion of charter cities. In his version, governments establish the rules of a new city as an experiment to see if citizens and business want to live there.  If the experiment succeeds it can be repeated elsewhere. If it fails, that failure is survivable.

 

In reading Tim Harford’s book I was reminded of a claim by Timothy Ferris:

‘A liberal democracy in action is an endlessly changing mosaic of experiments, most of which partially or entirely fail’ .

The claim is made in his book, ‘The Science of Liberty’ (2010). In my discussion I suggested that Ferris’ view of liberal democracy, as akin to scientific experimentation, was a desirable ideal rather than a description of how democratic systems actually work. I suggested that elections seemed to be a reasonably effective way for citizens to avoid being governed by despots, to get rid of politicians who are obviously corrupt and to experiment with new policies. However, democracy departs from the scientific ideal because the democratic process is not good at ending policy experiments that partially fail. The most radical reforms rarely involve more than a tweaking of failing policy experiments.

If we look at democracy in terms of Palchinsky’s principles there are problems all over the place. There are at least two problems relating to willingness to experiment. First, there is often a strong bias in favour of the status quo because of loss aversion. If there is potential for any politically influential group to be disadvantaged by a policy experiment then it is unlikely to be conducted.  Second, there is often a reluctance to conduct experiments unless they involve the whole of a jurisdiction - questions of fairness are often perceived to be involved.

There are problems relating to survivability. Social experiments are often entered into by governments without adequate consideration of longer term implications for system survival. For example, welfare assistance that is granted when it seems to be affordable is often difficult to withdraw when economic circumstances change for the worse. Some European democracies are currently faced with survivability problems as a result of excessively ambitious social experimentation in the past.

There are also problems in seeking feedback and learning from failures. As noted above, the democratic process is not good at ending policy experiments that partially fail. This reflects two problems. First, governments are often reluctant to accept policy failure because it may have electoral consequences. Second, those who benefit from failing policy experiments are reluctant to see them end and often have the political clout to prevent this from happening.

So, can democracies learn to adapt? We have natural experiments that help us to answer that question. The older democracies have so far shown a capacity to adapt. They have been able to learn from some of their mistakes by adopting institutional innovations to improve the effectiveness of government and, to a lesser extent, to contain the growth of government responsibilities.

There is also potential for the democracies to learn from the success and mistakes of other democracies. For example, there is probably a lot to be learned from the modern experience of democracy in Greece, as well as from ancient history. A recent article by Steve Horwitz makes the point very well.

The idea of learning from the mistakes of others has more general relevance. It might even be worth adding to Palchinsky’s principles. However, it is probably harder to learn from mistakes made by others than to learn from your own mistakes. When my father told me that I should learn from his mistakes, as he often did, my response was that it would be much more fun to make my own mistakes. Looking back now, though, I don’t think my father actually made many mistakes that I could learn from.