Political scientists are only now beginning to come to terms with the importance of the Internet to politics. The most promising way to study the Internet is to look at the role that causal mechanisms such as the lowering of transaction costs, homophilous sorting, and preference falsification play in intermediating between specific aspects of the Internet and political outcomes. This will allow scholars to disentangle the relevant causal relationships and contribute to important present debates over whether the Internet exacerbates polarization in the United States, and whether social media helped pave the way toward the Arab Spring uprisings of 2011. Over time, ever fewer political scientists are likely to study the Internet as such, as it becomes more and more a part of everyday political life. However, integrating the Internet’s effects with present debates over politics, and taking proper advantage of the extraordinary data that it can provide, requires good causal arguments and attention to their underlying mechanisms.

Cognitive Democracy

Henry Farrell (George Washington University) and Cosma Rohilla Shalizi (Carnegie-Mellon/The Santa Fe Institute)

In this essay, we outline a cognitive approach to democracy. Specifically, we argue that democracy has unique benefits as a form of collective problem solving in that it potentially allows people with highly diverse perspectives to come together in order collectively to solve problems. Democracy can do this better than either markets and hierarchies, because it brings these diverse perceptions into direct contact with each other, allowing forms of learning that are unlikely either through the price mechanism of markets or the hierarchical arrangements of bureaucracy. Furthermore, democracy can, by experimenting, take advantage of novel forms of collective cognition that are facilitated by new media.

Much of what we say is synthetic – our normative arguments build on both the academic literature (Joshua Cohen’s and Josiah Ober’s arguments about epistemic democracy; Jack Knight and James Johnson’s pragmatist account of the benefits of a radically egalitarian democracy and Elster and Landemore’s forthcoming collection on Collective Wisdom), and on arguments by public intellectuals such as Steven Berlin Johnson, Clay Shirky, Tom Slee and Chris Hayes. We also seek to contribute to new debates on the sources of collective wisdom. Throughout, we emphasize the cognitive benefits of democracy, building on important results from cognitive science, from sociology, from machine learning and from network theory.

We start by explaining social institutions should do. Next, we examine sophisticated arguments that have been made in defense of markets (Hayek’s theories about catallaxy) and hierarchy (Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein’s ‘libertarian paternalism’) and discuss their inadequacies. The subsequent section lays out our arguments in favor of democracy, illustrating how democratic procedures have cognitive benefits that other social forms do not. The penultimate section discusses how democracy can learn from new forms of collective consensus formation on the Internet, treating these forms not as ideals to be approximated, but as imperfect experiments, whose successes and failures can teach us about the conditions for better decision making; this is part of a broader agenda for cross-disciplinary research involving computer scientists and democratic theorists.

Justifying Social Institutions

What are broad macro-institutions such as politics, markets and hierarchies good for? Different theorists have given very different answers to this question. The dominant tradition in political theory tends to evaluate them in terms of justice – whether institutions use procedures, or give results, that can be seen as just according to some reasonable normative criterion. Others, perhaps more cynically, have focused on their potential contribution to stability – whether they produce an acceptable level of social order, which minimizes violence and provides some modicum of predictability. In this essay, we analyze these institutions according to a different criterion. We start with a pragmatist question – whether these institutions are useful in helping us to solve difficult social problems.¹

Some of the problems that we face in politics are simple ones (not in the sense that solutions are easy, but in the sense that they are simple to analyze). However, the most vexing problems are usually ones without any very obvious solutions. How do we change legal rules and social norms in order to mitigate the problems of global warming? How do we regulate financial markets so as to minimize the risk of new crises emerging, and limit the harm of those that happen? How do we best encourage the spread of human rights internationally?

These problems are pressing—- yet they are difficult to think about systematically, let alone solve. They all share two important features. First, they are all social problems. That is, they are problems which involve the interaction of large numbers of human beings, with different interests, desires, needs and perspectives. Second, as a result, they are complex problems, in the sense that scholars of complexity understand the term. To borrow Scott Page’s (2011, p.25) definition, they involve “diverse entities that interact in a network or contact structure.“² They are a result of behavior that is difficult to predict, so that consequences to changing behavior are extremely hard to map out in advance. Finding solutions is difficult, and even when we find one, it is hard to know whether it is good in comparison to other possible solutions, let alone the best.

We argue that macro-institutions will best be able to tackle these problems if they have two features. First, they should foster a high degree of direct communication between individuals with diverse viewpoints. This kind of intellectual diversity is crucial to identifying good solutions to complex problems. Second, we argue that they should provide relative equality among affected actors in decision-making processes, so as to prevent socially or politically powerful groups from blocking socially beneficial changes to the detriment of their own particular interests.

We base these contentions on two sets of arguments, one from work on collective problem solving, the other from theories of political power. Both are clarified if we think of the possible solutions to a difficult problem as points on a landscape, where we seek the highest point. Difficult problems present many peaks, solutions that are better than the points close to them. Such landscapes are rugged—- they have some degree of organization, but are not so structured that simple algorithms can quickly find the best solution. There is no guarantee that any particular peak is globally optimal (i.e. the best solution across the entire landscape) rather than locally optimal (the best solution within a smaller subset of the landscape).

Solving a complex problem involves a search across this landscape for the best visible solutions. Individual agents have limited cognitive abilities, and (usually) limited knowledge of the landscape. Both of these make them likely to get stuck at local optima, which may be much worse than even other local peaks, let alone the global optimum. Less abstractly, people may settle for bad solutions, because they do not know better (they cannot perceive other, better solutions), or because they have difficulty in reaching these solutions (e.g. because of coordination problems, or because of the ability of powerful actors to veto possible changes).

Lu Hong and Scott Page (2004) use mathematical models to argue that diversity of viewpoints helps groups find better solutions (higher peaks on the landscape). The intuition is that different individuals, when confronting a problem, “see” different landscapes—- they organize the set of possible solutions in different ways, some of which are useful in identifying good peaks, some of which less so. Very smart individuals (those with many mental tools) have better organized landscapes than less smart individuals, and so are less likely to get trapped at inferior local optima. However, at the group level, diversity of viewpoints matters a lot. Page and Hong find that “diversity trumps ability”. Groups with high diversity of internal viewpoints are better able to identify optima than groups composed of much smarter individuals with more homogenous viewpoints. By putting their diverse views together, the former are able to map out more of the landscape and identify possible solutions that would be invisible to groups of individuals with more similar perspectives.

Page and Hong do not model the social processes through which individuals can bring their diverse points of view together into a common framework. However, their arguments surely suggest that actors’ different points of view need to be exposed directly to each other, in order to identify the benefits and drawbacks of different points of view, the ways in which viewpoints can be combined to better advantage, and so on. These arguments are supported by a plethora of work in sociology and elsewhere (Burt, Rossman etc). As we explain at length below, some degree of clumping is also beneficial, so so that individuals with divergent viewpoints do not converge too quickly.

The second issue for collective problem solving is more obvious. Even when groups are able to identify good solutions (relatively high peaks in the solution landscape), they may not be able to reach them. In particular, actors who benefit from the status quo (or who would prefer less generally-beneficial solutions) may be able to use political and social power to block movement towards such peaks, and instead compel movement towards solutions that have lower social and greater individual benefits. Research on problem solving typically does not talk about differences in actors’ interests, or in actors’ ability successfully to pursue their interests. While different individuals initially perceive different aspects of the landscape, researchers assume that once they are able to communicate with each other, they will all agree on how to rank visible solutions from best to worst. But actors may have diverse interests as well as diverse understandings of the world (and the two may indeed be systematically linked). They may even be working in such different landscapes, in terms of personal advantage, that one actor’s peak is another’s valley, and vice versa. Moreover, actors may differ in their ability to ensure that their interests are prosecuted. Recent work in political theory (Knight 1992, Johnson and Knight 2011), economics (Bowles and Naidu, 2008), political science (Hacker and Pierson 2010) and sociology details how powerful actors may be able to compel weaker ones to accept solutions that are to the advantage of the former, but that have lower overall social benefits.

Here, relative equality of power can have important consequences. Individuals in settings with relatively equal power relations, are, ceteris paribus more likely to converge on solutions with broad social benefits, and less likely to converge on solutions that benefit smaller groups of individuals at the expense of the majority. Furthermore, equal power relations may not only make it easier to converge on “good” solutions when they have been identified, but may stimulate the process of search for such solutions. Participating in the search for solutions and in decision-making demands resources (at a minimum, time), and if those resources are concentrated in a small set of actors, with similar interests and perspectives, the solutions they will find will be fewer and worse than if a wide variety of actors can also search.

With this in mind, we ask whether different macro-institutions are better, or worse at solving the complex problems that confront modern economies and societies. Institutions will tend to do better to the extent that they both (i) bring together people with different perspectives, and (ii) share decision-making power relatively equally. Our arguments are, obviously, quite broad. We do not speak much to the specifics of how macro-institutions work, instead focusing on the broad logics of these different macro-institutions. Furthermore, we do not look at the ways in which our desiderata interact with other reasonable desiderata (such as social stability, justice and so on). Even so, we think that it is worth clarifying the ways in which different institutions can, or cannot, solve complex problems. In recent decades, for example, many scholars and policy makers have devoted time and energy to advocating markets as the way to address social problems that are too complex to be solved by top-down authority. As we show below, markets, to the extent that they imply substantial power inequalities, and increasingly homogenize human relations, are unlikely to possess the virtues attributed to them, though they can have more particular benefits under specific circumstances. Similarly, hierarchy suffers from dramatic informational flaws. This prompts us to reconsider democracy, not for the sake of justice or stability, but as a tool for solving the complex problems faced by modern societies.

Markets and Hierarchies as Ways to Solve Complex Problems

Many scholars and public intellectuals believe that markets or hierarchies provide better ways to solve complex problems than democracy. Advocates of markets usually build on the groundbreaking work of F. A. von Hayek, to argue that market based forms of organization do a better job of eliciting information and putting it to good work than does collective organization. Advocates of hierarchy do not write from any such unified tradition. However, Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein have recently made a sophisticated case for the benefits of hierarchy. They advocate a combination of top-down mechanism design and institutions designed to guide choices rather than to constrain them – what they call libertarian paternalism – as a way to solve difficult social problems. Hayek’s arguments are not the only case for markets, and Thaler and Sunstein’s are not the only justification for hierarchy. They are, however, among the best such arguments, and hence provide a good initial way to test the respective benefits of markets, hierarchies and democracies in solving complex problems. If there are better arguments, which do not fall victim to the kinds of problems we point to, we are not aware of them (but would be very happy to be told of them).

Hayek’s account of the informational benefits of markets is groundbreaking. Although it builds on the insights of others (particularly Michael Polanyi), it is arguably the first real effort to analyze how social institutions work as information-processors. Hayek reasons as follows. Much of human knowledge (as Polanyi argues) is practical, and cannot be fully articulated (“tacit”). This knowledge is nonetheless crucial to economic life. Hence, if we are to allocate resources well, we must somehow gather this dispersed, fragmentary, informal knowledge, and make it useful.

Hayek is explicit that no one person can know all that is required to allocate resources properly, so there must be a social mechanism for such information processing. Hayek identifies three possible mechanisms: central planning, planning by monopolistic industries, and decentralized planning by individuals. He argues that the first and second of these break down when we take account of the vast amount of tacit knowledge, which cannot be conveyed to any centralized authority. Centralized or semi-centralized planning are especially poor at dealing with the constant flows of major and minor changes through which an economy (or, as Hayek would prefer, a catallaxy) approaches balance. To deal with such changes, we need people to make the necessary decisions on the spot—- but we also need some way to convey the appropriate information about changes in the larger economic system to him or her. The virtue of the price system, for Hayek, is to compress diffuse, even tacit, knowledge about specific changes in specific circumstances into a single index, which can guide individuals as to how they ought respond to changes elsewhere. I do not need to grasp the intimate local knowledge of the farmer who sells me tomatoes in order to decide whether to buy their products. The farmer needs to know the price of fertilizer, not how it is made, or what it could be used for other than tomatoes, or the other uses of the fertilizers’ ingredients. (I do not even need to know the price of fertilizer.) The information that we need, to decide whether to buy tomatoes or to buy fertilizer, is conveyed through prices, which may go up or down, depending on the aggregate action of many buyers or suppliers, each working with her own tacit understandings.

This insight is both crucial and beautiful³, yet it has stark limits. It suggests that markets will be best at conveying a particular kind of information about a particular kind of underlying facts, i.e., the relative scarcity of different goods. As Stiglitz (2000) argues, market signals about relative scarcity are always distorted, because prices embed information about many other economically important factors. More importantly, although information about relative scarcity surely helps markets approach some kind of balance, it is little help in solving more complicated social problems, which may depend not on allocating existing stocks of goods in a useful way, given people’s dispersed local knowledge, so much as discovering new goods or new forms of allocation. More generally, Hayek’s well-known detestation for projects with collective goals lead him systematically to discount the ways in which aggregate knowledge might work to solve collective rather than individual problems.

This is unfortunate. To the extent that markets fulfil Hayek’s criteria, and mediate all relevant interactions through the price mechanism, they foreclose other forms of exchange that are more intellectually fruitful. In particular, Hayek’s reliance on arguments about inarticulable tacit knowledge mean that he leaves no place for reasoned discourse or the useful exchange of views. In Hayek’s markets, people communicate only through prices. The advantage of prices, for Hayek, is that they inform individuals about what others want (or don’t want), without requiring anyone to know anything about anyone else’s plans or understandings. But there are many useful forms of knowledge that cannot readily be conveyed in this way.

Individuals may learn something about those understandings as a by-product of market interactions. In John Stuart Mill’s description:

But the economical advantages of commerce are surpassed in importance by those of its effects which are intellectual and moral. It is hardly possible to overrate the value, in the present low state of human improvement, of placing human beings in contact with persons dissimilar to themselves, and with modes of thought and action unlike those with which they are familiar. Commerce is now what war once was, the principal source of this contact.

However, such contact is largely incidental—- people engage in market activities to buy or to sell to best advantage, not to learn. As markets become purer, in both the Hayekian and neo-classical senses, they produce ever less of the contact between different modes of life that Mill regards as salutary. The resurgence of globalization; the creation of an Internet where people who will only ever know each other by their account names buy and sell from each other; the replacement of local understandings with global standards; all these provide enormous efficiency gains and allow information about supply and demand to flow more smoothly. Yet each of them undermines the Millian benefits of commerce, by making it less likely that individuals with different points of view will have those perspectives directly exposed to each other. More tentatively, markets may themselves have a homogenizing impact on differences between individuals and across societies, again reducing diversity. As Albert Hirschman shows, there is a rich, if not unambiguous, literature on the global consequences of market society. Sociologists such as John Meyer and his colleagues find evidence of increased cultural and social convergence across different national contexts, as a result of exposure to common market and political forces.

In addition, it is unclear whether markets in general reduce power inequalities or reinforce them in modern democracies. It is almost certainly true that the spread of markets helped undermine some historical forms of hierarchy, such as feudalism (Marx). It is not clear that they continue to do so in modern democracies. On the one hand, free market participation provides individuals with some ability (presuming equal market access, etc.) to break away from abusive relationships. On the other, markets provide greater voice and choice to those with more money; if money talks in politics, it shouts across the agora. Nor are these effects limited to the marketplace. The market facilitates and fosters asymmetries of wealth which in turn may be directly or indirectly translated into asymmetries of political influence (Lindblom). Untrammeled markets are associated with gross income inequalities, which in turn infects politics with a variety of pathologies. This suggests that markets fail in the broader task of exposing individuals’ differing perspectives to each to each other. Furthermore, markets are at best indifferent levelers of unequal power relations.

Does hierarchy do better? In an influential recent book, Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein suggest that it does. They argue that “choice architects”, people who have “responsibility for organizing the context in which people make decisions,” can design institutions so as to spur people to take better choices rather than worse ones. Thaler and Sunstein are self-consciously paternalist, claiming that flawed behavior and thinking consistently stop people from making the choices that are in their best interests. However, they also find direct control of people’s choices morally opprobrious. Libertarian paternalism seeks to guide but not eliminate choice, so that the easiest option is the “best” choice that individuals would make, if they only had sufficient attention and discipline. It provides paternalistic guidance through libertarian means, shaping choice contexts to make it more likely that individuals will make the right choices rather than the wrong ones.

This is, in Thaler and Sunstein’s words, a politics of “nudging” choices rather than dictating them. Although Thaler and Sunstein do not put it this way, it is also a plea for the benefits of hierarchy in organizations and, in particular, in government. Thaler and Sunstein’s “choice architects” are hierarchical superiors, specifically empowered to create broad schemes that will shape the choices of many other individuals. Their power to do this does not flow from, e.g., accountability to those whose choices get shaped. Instead, it flows from positions of authority within firm or government, which allow them to craft pension contribution schemes within firms, environmental policy within the government, and so on.

Thaler and Sunstein’s recommendations have outraged libertarians, who believe that a nudge is merely a well-aimed shove—- that individuals’ freedom will be reduced nearly as much by Thaler and Sunstein’s choice architecture, as it would be by direct coercion. We are also unenthusiastic about libertarian paternalism, but for different reasons. While we do not talk, here, about coercion, we have no particular normative objection to it, provided that it is proportionate, directed towards legitimate ends, and constrained by well-functioning democratic controls. Instead, we worry that the kinds of hierarchy that Thaler and Sunstein presume actively inhibit the unconstrained exchange of views that we see as essential to solving complex problems.

Bureaucratic hierarchy is an extraordinary political achievement. States with clear, accountable hierarchies can achieve vast and intricate projects, and businesses use hierarchies to coordinate highly complex chains of production and distribution.⁴ Even so, there are reasons why bureaucracies have few modern defenders. Hierarchies rely on power asymmetries to work. Inferiors take orders from superiors, in a chain of command leading up to the chief executive officer (in firms) or some appointed or non-appointed political actor (in government). This is good for pushing orders down the chain, but notoriously poor at transmitting useful information up, especially kinds of information superiors did not anticipate wanting. As scholars from Max Weber on have emphasized, bureaucracies systematically encourage a culture of conformity in order to increase predictability and static efficiency.

Thaler and Sunstein presume a hierarchy in which orders are followed and policies are implemented, but ignore what this implies about feedback. They imagine hierarchically-empowered architects shaping the choices of a less well-informed and less rational general population. They discuss ordinary people’s bad choices at length. However, they have remarkably little to say about how it is that the architects housed atop the hierarchy can figure out better choices on these individuals’ behalf, or how the architectures can actually design choice systems that will encourage these choices. Sometimes, Thaler and Sunstein suggest that choice architects can rely on introspection: “Libertarian paternalists would like to set the default by asking what reflective employees in Janet’s position would actually want.” At other times, they imply that choice architects can use experimental techniques. The book’s opening analogy proposes a set of experiments, in which the director of food services for a system “with hundreds of schools” (p. 1), “who likes to think about things in non-traditional ways,” experiments with different arrangements of food in order to discover which displays encourage kids to pick the healthier options. Finally, Thaler and Sunstein sometimes argue that choice architects can use results from the social sciences to find optima.

One mechanism of information gathering that they systematically ignore is active feedback from citizens. Although they argue in passing that feedback from choice architects can help guide consumers, e.g., giving information about the content of food, or by shaping online interactions to ensure that people are exposed to others’ points of view, they have no place for feedback from the individuals whose choices are being manipulated to help guide the choice architects, let alone to constrain them. As Suzanne Mettler (2011) has pointed out, Thaler and Sunstein depict citizens as passive consumers, who need to be guided to the desired outcomes, rather than active participants in democratic decision making.

This also means that Thaler and Sunstein’s proposals don’t take advantage of diversity. Choice architects, located within hierarchies which tend generically to promote conformity, are likely to have a much more limited range of ways of understanding problems than the population whose choices they are seeking to structure. In Scott Page’s terms, these actors are may very “able”—- they will have sophisticated and complex heuristics, so that each individual choice architect is better able than each individual member of the population to see a large portion of the landscape of possible choices and outcomes. However, the architects will be very similar to each other in background and training, so that as a group they will see a far more limited set of possibilities than a group of randomly selected members of the population (who are likely to have less sophisticated but far more diverse heuristics). Cultural homogeneity among hierarchical elites helps create policy disasters (the “best and brightest” problem). Direct involvement of a wider selection of actors with more diverse heuristics would alleviate this problem.

However, precisely because choice architects rely on hierarchical power to create their architectures, they will have difficulty in eliciting feedback, even if they want to. Inequalities of power notoriously dampen real exchanges of viewpoints. Hierarchical inferiors within organizations worry about contradicting their bosses. Ordinary members of the public are uncomfortable when asked to contradict experts or officials. Work on group decision making (including, e.g., Sunstein 2003) is full of examples of how perceived power inequalities lead less powerful actors either to remain silent, or merely to affirm the views of more powerful actors, even when they have independently valuable perspectives or knowledge.

In short, libertarian paternalism is flawed, not because it restricts peoples’ choices, but because it makes heroic assumptions about choice architects’ ability to figure out what the actual default choices should be, and blocks their channels for learning better. Choice architects will be likely to share a narrow range of sophisticated heuristics, and to have difficulty in soliciting feedback from others with more diverse heuristics, because of their hierarchical superiority and the unequal power relations that this entails. Libertarian paternalism may still have value in situations of individual choice, where people likely do “want” e.g. to save more or take more exercise, but face commitment problems, or when other actors have an incentive to misinform these people or to structure their choices in perverse ways in the absence of a ‘good’ default choice. However, it will be far less useful, or even actively pernicious, in complex situations, where many actors with different interests make interdependent choices. Indeed, Thaler and Sunstein are far more convincing when they discuss how to encourage people to choose appropriate pension schemes than when they suggest that environmental problems are the “outcome of a global choice architecture system” that could be usefully rejiggered via a variety of voluntaristic mechanisms.

Democracy as a way to solve complex problems

Is democracy better at identifying solutions to complex problems? Many—- even on the left—- doubt that it is. They point to problems of finding common ground and of partisanship, and despair of finding answers to hard questions. The dominant tradition of American liberalism actually has considerable distaste for the less genteel aspects of democracy. The early 20th century Progressives and their modern heirs deplore partisanship and political rivalry, instead preferring technocracy, moderation and deliberation (Rosenblum 2008). Some liberals (e.g., Thaler and Sunstein) are attracted to Hayekian arguments for markets and libertarian paternalist arguments for hierarchy exactly because they seem better than the partisan rancor of democratic competition.

We believe that they are wrong, and democracy offers a better way of solving complex problems. Since, as we’ve argued, power asymmetries inhibit problem-solving, democracy has a large advantage over both markets and technocratic hierarchy. The fundamental democratic commitment is to equality of power over political decision making. Real democracies do not deliver on this commitment any more than real markets deliver perfect competition, or real hierarchies deliver an abstractly benevolent interpretation of rules. But a commitment to democratic improvements is a commitment to making power relations more equal, just as a commitment to markets is to improving competition, and a commitment to hierarchy (in its positive aspects) is a commitment to greater disinterestedness. This implies that a genuine commitment to democracy is a commitment to political radicalism. We embrace this.

Democracy, then, is committed to equality of power; it is also well-suited to exposing points of view to each other in a way that leads to identifying better solutions. This is because democracy also involves debate. In competitive elections and in more intimate discussions, democratic actors argue over which proposals are better or worse, exposing their different perspectives to each other.

Yet at first glance, this interchange of perspectives looks ugly: it is partisan, rancorous and vexatious, and people seem to never change their minds. This leads some on the left to argue that we need to replace traditional democratic forms with ones that involve genuine deliberation, where people will strive to be open-minded, and to transcend their interests. These aspirations are hopelessly utopian. Such impartiality can only be achieved fleetingly at best, and clashes of interest and perception are intrinsic to democratic politics.

Here, we concur with Jack Knight and Jim Johnson’s important recent book (2011), which argues that politics is a response to the problem of diversity. Actors with differing—- indeed conflicting—- interests and perceptions find that their fates are bound together, and that they must make the best of this. Yet, Knight and Johnson argue, politics is also a matter of seeking to harness diversity so as to generate useful knowledge. They specifically do not argue that democracy requires impartial deliberation. Instead, they claim that partial and self-interested debate can have epistemological benefits. As they describe it, “democratic decision processes make better use of the distributed knowledge that exists in a society than do their rivals” such as market coordination or judicial decision making (p. 151). Knight and Johnson suggest that approaches based on diversity, such as those of Scott Page and Elizabeth Anderson, provide a better foundation for thinking about the epistemic benefits of democracy than the arguments of Condorcet and his intellectual heirs.

We agree. Unlike Hayek’s account of markets, and Thaler and Sunstein’s account of hierarchy, this argument suggests that democracy can both foster communication among individuals with highly diverse viewpoints. This is an argument for cognitive democracy, for democratic arrangements that take best advantage of the cognitive diversity of their population. Like us, Knight and Johnson stress the pragmatic benefits of equality. Harnessing the benefits of diversity means ensuring that actors with a very wide range of viewpoints have the opportunity to express their views and to influence collective choice. Unequal societies will select only over a much smaller range of viewpoints—- those of powerful people. Yet Knight and Johnson do not really talk about the mechanisms through which clashes between different actors with different viewpoints result in better decision making. Without such a theory, it could be that conflict between perspectives results in worse rather than better problem solving. To make a good case for democracy, we not only need to bring diverse points of view to the table, but show that the specific ways in which they are exposed to each other have beneficial consequences for problem solving.

There is micro-level work which speaks to this issue. Hugo Mercier and Dan Sperber (2011) advance a purely ‘argumentative’ account of reasoning, on which reasoning is not intended to reach right answers, but rather to evaluate the weaknesses of others’ arguments and come up with good arguments to support one’s own position. This explains both why confirmation bias and motivated reasoning are rife, and why the quality of argument is significantly better when actors engage in real debates. Experimentally, individual performance when reasoning in non-argumentative settings is ‘abysmal,’ but is ‘good’ in argumentative settings. This, in turn, means that groups are typically better in solving problems than is the best individual within the group . Indeed, where there is diversity of opinion, confirmation bias can have positive consequences in pushing people to evaluate and improve their arguments in a competitive setting.

When one is alone or with people who hold similar views, one’s arguments will not be critically evaluated. This is when the confirmation bias is most likely to lead to poor outcomes. However, when reasoning is used in a more felicitous context, that is, in arguments among people who disagree but have a common interest in the truth, the confirmation bias contributes to an efficient form of division of cognitive labor. When a group has to solve a problem, it is much more efficient if each individual looks mostly for arguments supporting a given solution. They can then present these arguments to the group, to be tested by the other members. This method will work as long as people can be swayed by good arguments, and the results reviewed … show that this is generally the case. This joint dialogic approach is much more efficient than one where each individual on his or her own has to examine all possible solutions carefully (p. 65).

A separate line of research in experimental social psychology (Nemeth et al. (2004), Nemeth and Ormiston (2007), and Nemeth (2012)) indicates that problem-solving groups produce more solutions, which outsiders assess as better and more innovative, when they contain persistent dissenting minorities, and are encouraged to engage in, rather than refrain from, mutual criticism. (Such effects can even be seen in school-children: see Mercer, 2000.) This, of course, makes a great deal of sense from Mercier and Sperber’s perspective.

This provides micro-level evidence that political argument will improve problem solving, even if we are skeptical about human beings’ ability to abstract away from their specific circumstances and interests. Neither a commitment to deliberation, nor even standard rationality is required for argument to help solve problems.[^nemeth] This has clear implications for democracy, which forces actors with very different perspectives to engage with each others’ viewpoints. Even the most homogenous-seeming societies contain great diversity of opinion and of interest (the two are typically related) within them. In a democracy, no single set of interests or perspectives is likely to prevail on its own. Sometimes, political actors have to build coalitions with others holding dissimilar views, a process which requires engagement between these views. Sometimes, they have to publicly contend with others holding opposed perspectives in order to persuade uncommitted others to favor their interpretation, rather than another. Sometimes, as new issues arise, they have to persuade even their old allies of how their shared perspectives should be reinterpreted anew.

More generally, many of the features of democracy that skeptical liberals deplore are actually of considerable benefit. Mercier and Sperber’s work provides microfoundations for arguments about the benefits of political contention, such as John Stuart Mill’s, and of arguments for the benefits of partisanship, such as Nancy Rosenblum’s (2008) sympathetic critique and reconstruction of Mill. Their findings suggest that the confirmation bias that political advocates have are subject to can have crucial benefits, so long as it is tempered by the ability to evaluate good arguments in context.

Other work suggests that the macro-structures of democracies too can have benefits. Lazer and Friedman (2007) find on the basis of simulations that problem solvers connected via linear networks (in which there are few links) will find better solutions over the long run than problem solvers connected via totally connected networks (in which there all nodes are linked to each other). In a totally connected network, actors copy the best immediately visible solution quickly, driving out diversity from the system, while in a linear network, different groups explore the space around different solutions for a much longer period, making it more likely that they will identify better solutions that were not immediately apparent. Here, the macro-level structure of the network does the same kind of work that confirmation bias does in Mercier and Sperber’s work – it preserves diversity and encourages actors to keep exploring solutions that may not have immediate payoffs.⁵

This work offers a cognitive justification for the macro-level organization of democratic life around political parties. Party politics tends to organize debate into intense clusters of argument among people (partisans for the one or the other party) who agree in broad outline about how to solve problems, but who disagree vigorously about the specifics. Links between these clusters are much rarer than links within them, and are usually mediated by competition. Under a cognitive account, one might see each of these different clusters as engaged in exploring the space of possibilities around a particular solution, maintaining some limited awareness of other searches being performed within other clusters, and sometimes discreetly borrowing from them in order to improve competitiveness, but nonetheless preserving an essential level of diversity (cf. Huckfeldt et al., 2004). Such very general considerations do not justify any specific partisan arrangement, as there may be better (or worse) arrangements available. What it does is highlight how party organization and party competition can have benefits that are hard or impossible to match in a less clustered and more homogenous social setting. Specifically, it shows how partisan arrangements can be better at solving complex problems than non-partisan institutions, because they better preserve and better harness diversity.

This leads us to argue that democracy will be better able to solve complex problems than either markets or hierarchy, for two reasons. First, democracy embodies a commitment to political equality that the other two macro-institutions do not. Clearly, actual democracies achieve political equality more or less imperfectly. Yet if we are right, the better a democracy is at achieving political equality, the better it will be, ceteris paribus, at solving complex problems. Second, democratic argument, which people use either to ally with or to attack those with other points of view, is better suited to exposing different perspectives to each other, and hence capturing the benefits of diversity, than either markets or hierarchies. Notably, we do not make heroic claims about people’s ability to deliberate in some context that is free from faction and self-interest. Instead, even under realistic accounts of how people argue, democratic argument will have cognitive benefits, and indeed can transform private vices (confirmation bias) into public virtues (the preservation of cognitive diversity)⁶. Democratic structures – such as political parties – that are often deplored turn out to have important cognitive advantages.

Democratic experimentalism and the Internet

As we have emphasized several times, we have no reason to think that actually-existing democratic structures are as good as they could be, or even close. If nothing else, designing institutions is, itself, a highly complex problem, where even the most able decision-makers have little ability to foresee the consequences of their actions. Even when an institution works well at one time, the array of other institutions, social and physical conditions in which it must function is constantly changing. Institutional design and reform, then, is unavoidably a matter of more or less ambitious “piecemeal social experiments”, to use the phrase of Popper (1957). As emphasized by Popper, and by independently by Knight and Johnson, one of the strengths of democracy is its ability to make, monitor, and learn from such experiments.⁷ (Knight and Johnson particularly emphasize the difficulty markets have in this task.) Democracies can, in fact, experiment with their own arrangements.

For several reasons, the rise of the Internet makes this an especially propitious time for experimenting with democratic structures themselves. The means available for communication and information-processing are obviously going to change the possibilities for collective decision-making. (Bureaucracy was not an option in the Old Stone Age, nor representative democracy without something like cheap printing.) We do not yet know the possibilities of Internet-mediated communication for gathering dispersed knowledge, for generating new knowledge, for complex problem-solving, or for collective decision-making, but we really ought to find out.

In fact, we are already starting to find out. People are building systems to accomplish all of these tasks, in narrower or broader domains, for their own reasons. Wikipedia is, of course, a famous example of allowing lots of more-or-less anonymous people to concentrate dispersed information about an immense range of subjects, and to do so both cheaply and reliably⁸. Crucially, however, it is not unique. News-sharing sites like Digg, Reddit, etc. are ways of focusing collective attention and filtering vast quantities of information. Sites like StackExchange have become a vital part of programming practice, because they encourage the sharing of know-how about programming, with the same system spreading to many other technical domains. The knowledge being aggregated through such systems is not tacit, rather it is articulated and discursive, but it was dispersed and is now shared. Similar systems are even being used to develop new knowledge. One mode of this is open-source software development, but it is also being used in experiments like the Polymath Project for doing original mathematics collaboratively⁹.

At a more humble level, there are the ubiquitous phenomena of mailing lists, discussion forums, etc., etc., where people with similar interests discuss them, on basically all topics of interest to people with enough resources to get on-line. These are, largely inadvertently, experiments in developing collective understandings, or at least shared and structured disagreements, about these topics.

All such systems have to face tricky problems of coordinating their computational architecture, their social organization, and their cognitive functions (Shalizi, 2007; Farrell and Schwartzberg, 2008). They need ways of of making findings (or claims) accessible, of keeping discussion productive, and so forth and so on. (Often, participants are otherwise strangers to each other, which is at the least suggestive of the problems of trust and motivation which will face efforts to make mass democracy more participative.) This opens up an immense design space, which is still very poorly understood—- but almost certainly presents a rugged search landscape, with an immense number of local maxima and no very obvious path to the true peaks. (It is even possible that the landscape, and so the peaks, could vary with the subject under debate.) One of the great aspects of the current moment, for cognitive democracy, is that it has become (comparatively) very cheap and easy for such experiments to be made online, so that this design space can be explored.

There are also online ventures which are failures, and these, too, are informative. They range from poorly-designed sites which never attract (or actively repel) a user base, or produce much of value, to online groupings which are very successful in their own terms, but are, cognitively, full of fail, such as thriving communities dedicated to conspiracy theories. These are not just random, isolated eccentrics, but highly structured communities engaged in sharing and developing ideas, which just so happen to be very bad ideas. (See, for instance, Bell et al. (2006) on the networks of those who share delusions that their minds are being controlled by outside forces.) If we want to understand what makes successful online institutions work, and perhaps even draw lessons for institutional design more generally, it will help tremendously to contrast the successes with such failures.

The other great aspect for learning right now is that all these experiments are leaving incredibly detailed records. People who use these sites or systems leave detailed, machine-accessible traces of their interactions with each other, even ones which tell us about what they were thinking. This is an unprecedented flood of detail about experiments with collective cognition, and indeed with all kinds of institutions, and about how well they served various functions. Not only could we begin to just observe successes and failures, but we can probe the mechanisms behind those outcomes.

This points, we think, to a very clear constructive agenda. To exaggerate a little, it is to see how far the Internet enables modern democracies to make as much use of their citizens’ minds as did Ober’s Athens. We want to learn from existing online ventures in collective cognition and decision-making. We want to treat these ventures are, more or less, spontaneous experiments¹⁰, and compare the success and failures (including partial successes and failures) to learn about institutional mechanisms which work well at harnessing the cognitive diversity of large numbers of people who do not know each other well (or at all), and meet under conditions of relative equality, not hierarchy. If this succeeds, what we learn from this will provide the basis for experimenting with the re-design of democratic institutions themselves.

We have, implicitly, been viewing institutions through the lens of information-processing. To be explicit, the human actions and interactions which instantiate an institution also implement abstract computations (Hutchins, 1995). Especially when designing institutions for collective cognition and decision-making, it is important to understand them as computational processes. This brings us to our concluding suggestions about some of the ways social science and computer science can help each other.

Hong and Page’s work provides a particularly clear, if abstract, formalization of the way in which diverse individual perspectives or heuristics can combine for better problem-solving. This observation is highly familiar in machine learning, where the large and rapidly-growing class of “ensemble methods” work, explicitly, by combining multiple imperfect models, which helps only because the models are different (Domingos, 1999)—- in some cases it helps exactly to the extent that the models are different (Krogh and Vedelsby, 1995). Different ensemble techniques correspond to different assumptions about the capacities of individual learners, and how to combine or communicate their predictions. The latter are typically extremely simplistic, and understanding the possibilities of non-trivial organizations for learning seems like a crucial question for both machine learning and for social science.

Conclusions: Cognitive Democracy

Democracy, we have argued, has a capacity unmatched among other macro-structures to actually experiment, and to make use of cognitive diversity in solving complex problems. To make the best use of these potentials, democratic structures must themselves be shaped so that social interaction and cognitive function reinforce each other. But the cleverest institutional design in the world will not help unless the resources—- material, social, cultural—- needed for participation are actually broadly shared. This is not, or not just, about being nice or equitable; cognitive diversity is itself a resource, a source of power, and not something we can afford to waste.

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Every once in a while folks in the political corner of the blogosphere start talking about Hayek’s argument in The Road to Serfdom. As Matt Yglesias said Monday, lots of people, conservatives and liberals alike, say that Hayek believed that any welfare state inevitably leads to totalitarianism. Then some people who have actually read Hayek reply that he always supported social insurance, safety nets, public goods provision and many forms of regulation. Then confusion ensues.

… Obviously Farrell and Judt’s claims are over the top due to their use of various “of any sort” “unequivocally” “at all” and “Hitler” modifiers … instead of beating up on them, let’s use our collective annoyed-by-someone-on-the-internet energy in a constructive fashion: to see what we can learn about Hayek’s real arguments against socialism and the welfare state. … Caldwell concludes, rightly, that Hayek was right about this. But he points out that Hayek’s criticism of the welfare state is subtler and involves two claims. The first problem with the welfare state is that it is a philosophically slippery target. … when Farrell reads this, he concludes that Hayek basically made the same claims about the welfare state and socialism, namely that both institutions will lead, eventually, to totalitarianism, even if the socialism gets us there sooner than the welfare state. … In my last post, I pointed out that even the later Hayek defended a universal basic income … Thus, Hayek supported what we typically call a welfare state throughout his career. … In my view, then, Hayek’s target is not “the welfare state” as such, that is, not a social insurance or safety net state, but rather a state based on a robust conception of distributive justice applied to its economic components … Hayek’s critique of the welfare state simply falls out of his broader conception of the legal order of a free people. … So let’s distinguish between two kinds of welfare states: the welfare state of law and the welfare state of administration. Hayek’s preferred welfare state is limited by his insistence that the law be regulated by clear, public, general principles rather than administrative bodies.

Hayek opposes the welfare state of administration. … But the second problem with the welfare state of administration is that it contains an internal dynamic that pushes in a socialist direction. … Of course, this is not totalitarianism by any means. For one thing, if citizens affirm even modest economic freedoms (as most members of liberal democracies do), then they will resist this accretion effect before things get too bad. And that’s the pattern we see: even in Scandinavian countries, people resist regulation due to their concerns about efficiency and, yes, concerns about property rights (sometimes more effectively than we supposedly libertarian Americans). …

Hayek overplayed his hand by arguing that the tinkerer’s welfare state will inevitably lead to totalitarianism, but not by much. The most free and economically successful liberal democracies hybridize welfare states of law and welfare states of administration. They’re hybrids largely due to the fact that most citizens of liberal democracies endorse elements of both liberalism and socialism. But if citizens of liberal democracies gave up liberalism entirely and stopped minding regulation so much, then I think the dynamic of the administrator’s welfare state would lead to significant authoritarianism that, while not totalitarian, would be uncomfortably close.

There are a couple of things going on here. First – the question of whether Hayek argued in favor of some kind of basic income scheme. This is, in fact, agreed to by all parties – hence my suggestion in the original post that “Hayek clearly believes that there are non-statist, non-paternalist ways of achieving some (if not all) of the same ends.” But the reason why Hayek sees this as allowable, as Vallier acknowledges in his own defense of Hayek, is that it is not statist – it involves coercion, but does not have the statist logic that Hayek views as pernicious.

Which brings us to the second, and more important point. Vallier can bring up the “Swedish welfare state is not all-overpowering because of citizens’ natural inclination to liberty argument” on his own behalf if he wants to. He cannot use it as a general defense of Hayek, for the simple reason that it flatly contradicts Hayek’s own arguments. To quote the relevant bit from Hayek again, filling in the ellipses so as to make it quite clear that I’m not patching together some kind of Frankenstein’s monster from disparate chunks of his thought:

… Of course, six years of socialist government in England have not produced anything resembling a totalitarian state. But those who argue that this has disproved the thesis of The Road to Serfdom have really missed one of its main points: that the most important change which extensive government control produces is a psychological change, an alteration in the character of the people.

This is necessarily a slow affair, a process which extends not over a few years but perhaps over one or two generations. The important point is that the political ideals of a people and its attitude toward authority are as much the effect as the cause of the political institutions under which it lives.

This means, among other things, that even a strong tradition of political liberty is no safeguard if the danger is precisely that new institutions and policies will gradually undermine and destroy that spirit.

The consequences can of course be averted if that spirit reasserts itself in time and the people not only throw out the party which has been leading them further and further in the dangerous direction but also recognize the nature of the danger and resolutely change their course. There is not yet much ground to believe that the latter has happened in England.

Yet the change undergone by the character of the British people, not merely under its Labour government but in the course of the much longer period during which it has been enjoying the blessings of a paternalistic welfare state, can hardly be mistaken. These changes are not easily demonstrated but are clearly felt if one lives in the country.

In Illustration, I will cite a few significant passages from a sociological survey dealing with the impact of the surfeit of regulation on the mental attitudes of the young. It is concerned with the situation before the Labour government came into power, in fact, about the time this book was first published, and deals mainly with the effects of those war regulations which the Labour government made permanent:

At school, in the place of work, on the journey to and fro, even in the very equipment and provisioning of the home, many of the activities normally possible to human beings are either forbidden or enjoined. Special agencies, called Citizen’s Advice Bureaus, are set up to steer the bewildered through the forest of rules, and to indicate to the persistent the rare clearings where a private person may still make a choice…[The town lad] is conditioned not to lift a finger without referring mentally to the book words first. A time-budget of an ordinary city youth for an ordinary working day would show that he spends great stretches of his waking hours going through the motions that have been predetermined for him by the directives in whose framing he has had no part, whose precise intention he seldom understands, and of whose appropriateness he cannot judge…The inference that what the city lad needs is more discipline and tighter control is too hasty. It would be nearer the mark to say that he is suffering from an overdose of control already…Surveying his parents and his older brothers or sisters he finds them as regulation bound as himself. He sees them so acclimatised to that state that they seldom plan and carry out under their own steam any new social excursion or enterprise. He thus looks forward to no future period at which a sinewy faculty of responsiblility is likely to be of service to himself or others…[The young people] are obliged to stomach so much external and, as it seems to them, meaningless control that they seek escape and recuperation in an absence of discipline as complete as they can make it.

Is it too pessimistic to fear that a generation grown up under these conditions is unlikely to throw off the fetters to which it has grown used? Or does this description not rather fully bear out De Tocqueville’s prediction of the “new kind of servitude”

after having thus successively taken each member of the community in its powerful grasp, and fashioned him at will, the supreme power then extends its arm over the whole community. It covers the surface of society with a network of small complicated rules, minute and uniform, through which the most original minds and the most energetic characters cannot penetrate to rise above the crowd. The will of man is not shattered but softened, bent and guided; men are seldom forced by it to act, but they are constantly restrained from acting. Such a power does not destroy, but it prevents existence; it does not tyrannize, but it compresses, enervates, extinguishes, and stupefies a people, till each nation is reduced to be nothing better than a flock of timid and industrial animals, of which government is the shepherd. I have always thought that servitude of the regular, quiet, and gentle kind which I have just described might be combined more easily than is commonly believed with some of the outward forms of freedom and that it might even establish itself under the wing of the sovereignty of the people.

What De Tocqueville did not consider was how long such a government would remain in the hands of benevolent despots when it would be so much more easy for any group of ruffians to keep itself indefinitely in power by disregarding all the traditional decencies of political life.

Perhaps I should also remind the reader that I have never accused the socialist parties of deliberately aiming at a totalitarian regime or even suspected that the leaders of the old socialist movements might ever show such inclinations. What I have argued in this book, and what the British experience convinces me even more to be true, is that the unforeseen but inevitable consequences of socialist planning create a state of affairs in which, if the policy is to be pursued, totalitarian forces will get the upper hand.

If mild doses of Speenhamland and Beveridge have had such pernicious consequences on the moral constitution of the stalwart yeomen of England, what then would we expect from Sweden, after decades of the more vigorous physic of Meidner and his acolytes? More succinctly – one cannot rescue the argument of someone who specifically and explicitly claims that welfare statism ineluctably creates a sheep-like public, by smuggling the contention that the spark of economic freedom can never be quenched in the hearts of free citizens. Hayek doesn’t “[overplay] his hand … but not by much.” He is flatly empirically wrong. For Hayek, the only way in which the spirit of the people can counteract the enervations of welfarism is by re-asserting itself, throwing out the socialists, and resolutely changing course, before it is all too late. More succinctly still – if we want to talk about people who are annoying on the internets, I personally find it quite annoying to be accused of not reading Hayek, by someone who doesn’t appear especially interested himself in reading the emphatic and unequivocal words that Hayek has himself used to express his views on the topic.

On points of general politesse – it is not contra Vallier, ‘over the top,’ to talk about Hitler with respect to explicit and extended claims that the welfare state will lead to Nazi/Stalinist authoritarianism. Godwin’s law indeed applies here, but at t=0. On this, see further how Bruce Caldwell, whose reading Vallier relies on, and who is hardly unsympathetic to Hayek, relates Hayek’s argument about the welfare state to “jackboots and gulags.” Vallier suggests that I, and Matthew Yglesias, should start from the position of “charity” – the charitable reading here, contra Vallier, is that Hayek’s claims on welfare-statism are separable from, and perhaps contradictory to, his arguments elsewhere. We should distinguish between the things that Hayek got right (e.g. much of his critique of state planning), the things that he got wrong but that still have some worthwhile thoughts (e.g. his arguments about evolution), and the things that he got wrong, but are not worth further investigation except as a species of intellectual pathology (e.g. this). As dsquared said in comments to the original post :

really, the only sensible thing for Hayekians to do with “Road to Serfdom” is to treat it like Marx and “the tendency of the rate of profit to fall”, or Einstein and “god doesn’t play dice”, or Keynes and eugenics or Heidegger and “more or less everything” and just say that it was a clear error but obviously doesn’t invalidate the whole rest of his work.

It’s rather odd that the Hayekians don’t seem willing to acknowledge that the Master might sometimes have been wrong – indeed, it suggests a distinct element of personality-cultism.

(Updated when I realized that I had not, in fact, included all the material in the ellipses)

Update 2: Kevin Vallier replies and is still, I think, quite wrong. First – he says that Hayek did too think that “people can resist the welfare state of administration’s road to serfdom via cultural resistance.” But this is, I think (and like him, I have read the passage multiple times), a misreading of what Hayek is saying here. Hayek doesn’t rely on the “spirit of political liberty” to do the work on its own – he claims that this spirit can prevail if people take action in time by throwing out the socialists and fundamentally changing the course of politics. This is because his argument is very clearly an institutional determinist one – as his minatory picture of the future makes quite explicit, he believes that welfare state and other regulatory institutions will, over time, sap the independence of the population so that they will become easy prey for authoritarians. The ‘spirit’ can start the process of resistance, if it inspires people to take action in time. But it does not serve itself as an enduring bulwark against welfare socialism. Hayek is quite specific. Second: he may, if he likes “continue to insist that [Farrell’s] original claim – that Hayek claimed that Swedish-style welfare states as such lead inevitably to totalitarianism – is wrong.” But however much he insists, he needs to reconcile this claim with e.g. Hayek’s statement that:

At the time I wrote [The Road to Serfdom], socialism meant unambiguously the nationalization of the means of production, and the central economic planning which this made possible and necessary. In this sense Sweden, for instance, is today very much less socialistically organized than Great Britain or Austria, though Sweden is commonly regarded as much more socialistic. This is due to the fact that socialism has come to mean chiefly the extensive redistribution of incomes through taxation and the institutions of the welfare state. In the latter kind of socialism the effects I discuss in this book are brought about more slowly, indirectly, and imperfectly. I believe that the ultimate outcome tends to be very much the same, although the process by which it is brought about is not quite the same as that described in this book.

Slowly. Indirectly. Imperfectly. But “the ultimate outcome tends to be very much the same.” This seems pretty definitive to me. Vallier’s interpretation seems indefensible. Hayek did believe that welfare state socialism was going to end up in the same place as direct economic-planning socialism, and he explicitly stated this belief in his writings. To be clear: you could, if you were a libertarian so inclined, try to rescue something from the wreckage, and tone down his predictions so as to make them instead, identifications of trends, much in the same way as Marxists have tried to rescue some of Marx’s less inspired predictions. Alternatively, you could claim that Hayek was arguing about the very long run, and that we simply haven’t seen the final desuetude of the welfare state yet. But you can’t say that Hayek didn’t believe that welfare states lead inevitably to totalitarianism, because he did demonstrably believe exactly this thing. Perhaps a more “imperfect” form of totalitarianism, but still, “very much the same.”

On three smaller points. Vallier suggests that The Road to Serfdom was “Hayek’s introduction to his most popular and least scholarly work” (with the implication that we should extend some charity to his claims here). This is a disputed point – I’ve had some correspondence from Andrew Farrant and Ed McPhail over the last few days which touched on this in passing, and suggested that this is an ex post rationalization by latter day Hayekians – their take is that The Road to Serfdom was explicitly aimed at the intelligentsia.

Further to this, he argues that when you think a:

really smart and important social philosopher and economist said something pretty dumb about a topic on which he was an expert, you should doubt your own judgment first.

I’m neither a philosopher nor an economist, so perhaps I’m biased – but I’ve read far too many smart and important philosophers and theoretical economists (including philosophers and economists whom I am far more ideologically sympathetic towards than I am to Hayek) make stupid empirical claims to feel at all inclined to grant this kind of latitude. In my experience, both philosophers and theoretical economists often tend to employ factual material rather disrespectfully, treating it merely as a means to illustrate ideas that they already have arrived at through more abstract forms of speculation. Sometimes, this can have intellectually bracing results – it can force you to look at the world in new ways, and hence have enormous value. But very often, it leads to bizarre and baroque intellectual constructions. The appropriate attitude to empiricizing philosophers and theoretical economists is one of cautious skepticism – with a reasonable degree of probability, they have interesting ideas about how the world actually works; with a lower degree of probability they have useful ideas; and with a lower degree still, they have right ideas. It certainly isn’t one of deference, beyond the usual kinds of deference one should demonstrate to other participants in conversation.

Finally, and most trivially – it’s genuinely terrifying to be told that Crooked Timber was being read by an assistant professor when he was an undergraduate. We’ve been at this for a long time, and become a sort of institution I suppose, but it still feels weird to be reminded of it.

In the United States, everyone may enjoy freedom of speech so long as it doesn’t matter. For those who would like what they say to matter, freedom of speech is very expensive.

It goes on:

It is for this reason that organizations with a strong sense of public mission but not much money are dependent on the “blonde child of capitalism,” private philanthropy. This dependence is true for both conservative and progressive causes, but there is an important difference in the philanthropic culture that they appeal to. The conservative foundations happily fund “big picture” work. … On the other hand, progressive foundations may understand that the organizations they fund have visions, but it’s not the vision that they will give money to. … If there is need for a vision, the foundation itself will provide this. Unfortunately, according to one source, the foundation’s vision too often amounts to this: “If we had enough money, and access to enough markets, and enough technological expertise, we could solve all the problems.”

Have I mentioned recently how happily superannuated Jacobin magazine makes me feel? You should all be subscribing.

Caldwell seemingly considers Hayek to be arguing little more in The Road to Serfdom than that Soviet-style command planning is wholly incompatible with a democratic polity. Indeed, taking Caldwell’s statements at face value, he would—at least when wearing his editor of Hayek’s Collected Works hat— seemingly consider Hayek’s book to have scant relevance whatsoever to contemporary debates over the welfare state and the Obama administration…. Did Hayek intend his argument in The Road to Serfdom to have exclusive applicability to a system of full-blown command planning (apparently Caldwell’s position) or also to — as Limbaugh and company would seemingly have it—have ready applicability to the mixed economy and welfare state … ?

there is much clear evidence that Hayek himself had always intended his argument to apply with equal stringency against command planning and the welfare state alike (see, e.g., Hayek 1948, [1956] 1994, 1960, and [1976] 1994). Indeed, as we shall show, Hayek—during the 1940s and after—frequently argued that the logic supposedly set into play by any policy of persisting with the mixed economy, Keynesian demand management policy, and welfare state practices would lead to full-blown central planning. Importantly, Hayek frequently claimed that the “middle of the road” policies—pretty much the welfare state and demand management (Toye 2004)—adopted by the 1945–51 Labour Government in Britain aptly illustrated the veracity of his thesis in The Road to Serfdom.

And Bruce Caldwell’s response (not paywalled):

Though Hayek had many targets in the book, the idea that socialism – state ownership of the means of production – is compatible with political freedom was certainly a chief one. … at Hayek’s dire warnings about the future take as their starting point a system of full socialism, that is, a system in which there is state ownership of the means of production … the examples of western Europe do not fit: none of them embraced a comprehensive system of planning. Perhaps needless to say, I stand by my statement … that “a welfare state is not socialism” (Caldwell, in Hayek 2007, 31). The distinction is absolutely essential if we are to understand the logic of Hayek’s argument correctly

Four years later, Hayek would offer his own vision of a new society … founded on liberal principles in his book The Constitution of Liberty. In chapter 17 of that work, in his precisely titled “The Decline of Socialism and the Rise of the Welfare State,” … Hayek asserts that the welfare state had replaced socialism as the chief enemy of liberty. He begins by noting that “socialism in the old definite sense is now dead in the western world” and that “If, fifteen years ago, doctrinaire socialism appeared as the main danger to liberty, today it would be tilting at windmills to direct one’s argument against it” (Hayek 1960, 254). But what had taken its place, enthusiasm for “the welfare state,” was in many ways more dangerous. Hayek notes that, “unlike socialism, the conception of the welfare state has no precise meaning” (ibid., 257). It has no distinctive principles, other than some amorphous desire to increase social justice. But this makes the task of fighting against it much more difficult … Hayek paints a portrait in which, slowly and over time, the accretion of interventions in the economy gradually and unintentionally lead us to the kind of centrally planned system that all now rightly regard as something to avoid.

And these are indeed the sort of slippery slope arguments that F&M want to associate Hayek with in the [sic] The Road to Serfdom. … In his later work, the slow but steady growth of the welfare state appears from the outside as much more benign, and precisely because of that, from Hayek’s perspective, is much more insidious. No jackboots or gulags accompany the growing power of the welfare state – at least not until later. Rather, the death of liberty is that of a thousand small cuts, each aiming at correcting some apparent flaw in the system. This is a very different argument from the one in The Road to Serfdom, and one should not mix them together.

In short, Bruce Caldwell’s defense is not that Hayek didn’t claim that the welfare state was the slippery slope to gulags and jackboots – it’s that he didn’t say this in The Road to Serfdom, although he did say it in his later works, and that one shouldn’t mix up the two arguments. Although Caldwell doesn’t mention it, Hayek himself conflates these arguments in his own introduction to the US edition of The Road to Serfdom, which was written after he began to worry more about the welfare state. Finally, Judt doesn’t actually attribute this argument of Hayek to The Road to Serfdom in any of its editions; he is talking, more generically, about Hayek’s “writings.” So I’m calling this one unequivocally in favor of Judt – contra Tyler Cowen, he wasn’t being unfair at all. And if Greg Ransom wants to argue in comments that notorious left-wing provocateur Bruce Caldwell is ignorant and dishonest about what Hayek says, he’s free to make the best case he can, (as long as he supports his tendentious accusations this time with facts, references etc).

it doesn’t show Judt in such an overwhelmingly favorable light. He is cranky, unfair to his intellectual opponents, and he repeatedly misrepresents thinkers such as Hayek on some fairly simple points. …

One does not have to agree with Hayek’s Road to Serfdom to find this an unfair characterization:

Hayek is quite explicit on this count: if you begin with welfare policies of any sort — directing individuals, taxing for social ends, engineering the outcomes of market relationships — you will end up with Hitler.

But is that actually so unfair? I meant to follow up at the time, and never quite got around to it. Then, yesterday, I re-read Hayek’s own introduction to the US edition.

That hodgepodge of ill-assembled and often inconsistent ideals which under the name of the Welfare State has largely replaced socialism as the goal of the reformers needs very careful sorting-out if its results are not to be very similar to those of full-fledged socialism. This is not to say that some of its aims are not both practicable and laudable. But there are many ways in which we can work toward the same goal, and in the present state of opinion there is some danger that our impatience for quick results may lead us to choose instruments which, though perhaps more efficient for achieving the particular ends, are not compatible with the preservation of a free society.

… Of course, six years of socialist government in England have not produced anything resembling a totalitarian state. But those who argue that this has disproved the thesis of The Road to Serfdom have really missed one of its main points: that the most important change which extensive government control produces is a psychological change, an alteration in the character of the people.

This is necessarily a slow affair, a process which extends not over a few years but perhaps over one or two generations. The important point is that the political ideals of a people and its attitude toward authority are as much the effect as the cause of the political institutions under which it lives. … the change undergone by the character of the British people, not merely under its Labour government but in the course of the much longer period during which it has been enjoying the blessings of a paternalistic welfare state, can hardly be mistaken. … Is it too pessimistic to fear that a generation grown up under these conditions is unlikely to throw off the fetters to which it has grown used? Or does this description not rather fully bear out De Tocqueville’s prediction of the “new kind of servitude” …

Perhaps I should also remind the reader that I have never accused the socialist parties of deliberately aiming at a totalitarian regime or even suspected that the leaders of the old socialist movements might ever show such inclinations. What I have argued in this book, and what the British experience convinces me even more to be true, is that the unforeseen but inevitable consequences of socialist planning create a state of affairs in which, if the policy is to be pursued, totalitarian forces will get the upper hand.

You can certainly argue that Judt is too sweeping when he says “welfare policies of any sort.” It would undoubtedly have been more accurate if he had said “welfare state policies of any sort,” as Hayek clearly believes that there are non-statist, non-paternalist ways of achieving some (if not all) of the same ends. The conditions under which Judt was writing (or more precisely dictating) go some very considerable way towards mitigating this inaccuracy.

However, even if Hayek qualifies his claims in the first paragraph quoted, he’s changed his tune towards the end. He very explicitly claims that the paternalist welfare state is creating the conditions under which (unless the policy is changed or reversed) totalitarianism will blossom, reducing the populace (as described in the bit of Tocqueville that Hayek quotes) into a “flock of timid and industrial animals, of which government is the shepherd,” which will surely sooner or later come under the control of “any group of ruffians.” More tersely: Welfare Statism=Inevitable Long Term Moral Decline=Hilter! ! ! !

Hayek surely had his moments of brilliant insight, but this wasn’t one of them – for all his protestations of anti-conservatism it’s a fundamentally conservative, and rather idiotic claim. I don’t think that Judt was being unfair at all.

In 2008, columnist Jonah Goldberg triggered a firestorm of controversy with his first book, LIBERAL FASCISM, a #1 New York Times bestseller. Now, he’s about to unleash another bold, funny, and thoughtful argument in his new book, THE TYRANNY OF CLICHÉS: How Liberals Cheat in the War of Ideas (Sentinel, May 1). … Please let me know if you’d like a copy of THE TYRANNY OF CLICHÉS.

I responded by saying that I was grateful for the offer, but that I’d rather slice my eyeballs open with a rusty can-opener. I also gave them permission to use this quote as a back-cover blurb if they liked. They never got back to me (I thought it was at least as good as Brad Thor’s “In the P.C. prison yard of accepted political thought, Jonah Goldberg has just shivved progressivism,” but I’m probably just biased). Now, fate has given me (and Penguin Books) a second chance.

On the dust jacket of his new book, “The Tyranny of Clichés: How Liberals Cheat in the War of Ideas,” best-selling conservative author and commentator Jonah Goldberg is described as having “twice been nominated for a Pulitzer Prize.” In fact, as Goldberg acknowledged on Tuesday, he has never been a Pulitzer nominee, but merely one of thousands of entrants. … His publisher, Penguin Group (USA), said the error was unintentional and it would remove the Pulitzer word from his book jacket when it’s time for the first reprint, “just like any other innocent mistake brought to our attention.”

It’s time to fill that gap on the back cover of the first reprint. So let me simultaneously (a) announce the creation of the Toolitzer Prizes, with myself as sole judge and executive chairman of the nominating committee, and (b) nominate The Tyranny of Cliches, and (retroactively), Liberal Fascism for the award, so that our Jonah will have two new nominations to take the place of the old ones. Should the necessary conditions of the competition be fulfilled (see below), the prize will be awarded to the book with the most serious, thoughtful, argument that has never before been made in such detail or with such care. Of course, deciding this would actually require me to read the books: hence the nomination process will have two steps.

If readers want to simply nominate books, they may do so by simply leaving a comment to this post, describing the book, and making a brief statement about its merits for the award. Books so nominated will have full and explicit permission to describe themselves as Toolitzer nominees in publicity materials, on the author’s website and so on, regardless of whether an actual award is made in the calendar year 2012.

If readers actually want an award to be made, they will need to both nominate a book and provide evidence of having made a minimum $500 donation in honor of the award to an organization which, in the opinion of the executive chairman, exemplifies the ideals of Liberal Fascism (examples might include The Baffler, Planned Parenthood, The American Prospect etc). Should readers so do, the sole judge will undertake to read the nominated book (as long as it is under 600 pages), and write a detailed blogpost evaluating its worthiness for the award (the sole judge quietly and selfishly hopes that no-one actually takes this second step, but will take his lumps if someone does).

The theme of the new issue is capitalist innovation and its problems. Quoting the framing piece by John Summers:

The fable that we are living through a time of head-snapping innovation in technology drives American thought these days – dystopian and utopian alike. But if you look past both the hysteria and the hype, and place the achievements of technology in historical perspective, then you may recall how business leaders promised not long ago to usher us into a glorious new time of abundance that stood beyond history. And then you may wonder if their control over technology hasn’t excelled mainly at producing dazzling new ways to package and distribute consumer products (like television) that have been kicking around history for quite some time. The salvos in this issue chronicle America’s trajectory from megamachines to minimachines, from prosthetic gods to prosthetic pals, and raise a corollary question from amid all these strangely unimaginative innovation: how much of our collective awe rests on low expectations?

There are some startlingly close parallels to the aspirations of the USSR, as described in Red Plenty, which I’ll be talking about at greater length in my contribution to the forthcoming seminar. There are also some claims that I disagree with. I’m not at all sure that this introduction has the diagnosis right. Much like the old Baffler, there are some good and excellently entertaining criticisms of specific elements of techno-boosterism, but also a little too much emphasis on the cultural rather than the political dimensions of techology.

In form, the new Baffler is different from the old one, which systematically refused to have truck with new technologies nearly up to the end. It not only has a website and a Kickstarter campaign, but a Twitter feed, Kindle and Nook versions, and online PDFs. Still, it rather awkwardly carries over some of the old attitudes about the technologies that it uses to communicate. The old Baffler was good at talking about how new economy boosterism served as an intellectual veil, obscuring real relations of power inequality. But it didn’t take any very particular care to distinguish new-technology-as-obfuscatory-rhetoric fron new-technology-as-phenomenon-shaping people’s lives. Sometimes, this worked. The last issue of the old Baffler had a lovely photo-essay on how the etherial Internet (more recently dubbed the ‘cloud;’ a term whose etymology deserves an essay in itself) was based on the squat physical reality of server farms. Sometimes, it didn’t. Like a bizarro-world Thomas Friedman, it seemed to lump new technology together with Nasdaq, globalization, free markets and financial capital. All were interlocking, all mutually reinforcing, all propelling us towards a future of misery and inequality.

This shared perspective (but reversed valences) allowed it to serve up a withering critique of the Friedman view of the world, and its underlying assumptions. It also made it hard to create a practicable alternative agenda. The old Baffler was great on the culture of capitalism, but not nearly as strong on its material underpinnings. It also, I think, systematically tended to misunderstand technology, treating it as a symptom of the culture wars, rather than as a phenomenon in itself.

The new Baffler is better on all of this (not that the old one wasn’t good – it really, really, was, but it had its limits too), and seems to be trying to figure out a different line of attack. That said, as the USIH seminar contributions suggest, it hasn’t quite gotten there yet. Again, when it’s good on critique, it’s very good indeed. Moe Tkacik’s piece on the Atlantic Conventional Wisdom Festival isn’t quite as strong as it could be (a couple too many personal hatchets to bury; some difficulties in capturing the transition from a world in which you have to have the CIA buying cultural institutes, to a world where private enterprise can do the job itself). Rick Perlstein’s article on Ronald Reagan is unsurprisingly excellent. But others don’t work. Will Boisvert’s attack on the MIT Media Lab is surprisingly unimaginative. The critique of Stupid Things That Nicholas Negroponte and His Mates Say could have been made any time in the last couple of decades, by more or less anybody who cared. And when Boisvert says

Last year, MIT posted a list of the Lab’s all-time “Top 25 Products and Platforms: …. Number 3 is Lego’s Mindstorms, a robotics kit beloved of school science fairs and adult hobbyists. Number 2? Guitar Hero. Yeah, they made that, one of the best-selling throw-away video games ever. Number 1 is the e-reader technology in Kindle, so give the Lab its due: it has spawned a subset of the video screens that are destroying the Republic of Letters.

he’s mistaking personal aesthetic peeves for general arguments. I’ll give him Guitar Hero if he really wants it (although I expect there’ll be dissenters in comments), but Mindstorms is as good a tool for engendering creativity in young folks as one could imagine. And e-reader technology as a destroyer of the Republic of Letters … really???

There are a couple of pieces that set out a more positive agenda. David Graeber’s piece I’ll mostly pass over, for fear of more unpleasantness – I think it’s fair to say that it’s provocatively Fourierist-utopian in both the positive and negative senses of that term. Kim Stanley Robinson provides an excerpt from 2312 that makes me really want to read the book – but while the solution to late capitalism may lie in quantum computers solving the socialist calculation problem (again: Red Plenty – Robinson has a joke about the “Spuffordized Soviet cybernetic model”) we probably can’t count on this happening in the near-to-immediate future.

In short, the new Baffler is very strong on describing the stunted possibilities of innovation under the current system, and the ways in which the rhetorics of globalization, the new economy etc cover over this stuntedness. It is less strong on describing alternatives, and has no very clear idea about how to get from here to there. Of course, it’s always much harder to come up with feasible alternatives than to describe the problems with the current system. But also, the new Baffler is still haunted by the ghost of the old one, with its generally dyspeptic attitude towards information technology as well as its more dubious prophets. This makes it harder to think through the relationship between innovation and change.

I’d be very disappointed to see the Baffler becoming techno-utopian, not that that’s at all likely. Still, I would like to see it publishing less articles that seem to dislike emerging technologies on principle, and more that try to figure out the precise circumstances under which they might help or hinder the process of moving towards a better society. For example: my dream Baffler would somehow magically persuade Richard Sennett to go to Foo Camp, and write a piece (likely partly critical, but also engaged) about the relationship between maker culture and his ideals of craftmanship. It would take on some of the hazier arguments about the joys of Government 2.0, but also talk to some of the very interesting things that e.g. the Sunlight Foundation is doing.

To put it a little differently again: the Baffler is right to keep pushing the case that technological rhetoric is no substitute for political and economic equality. But even if new technologies under actually-existing-capitalism are not (as some boosters would have it) inherently radicalizing and choice-enabling, they are not necessarily oppressive or choice-narrowing either. They can cut in either direction. It would have been nice to have had someone in the issue, who argued that technological innovation could be a lever for change in current society. Very likely they tried (putting together an issue of a low budget magazine depends a lot on who has the time and inclination to write for you). That Aaron Swartz is aboard suggests that they are aware of this skein of debate and want to engage with it.

Engagement is not agreement – there’s a lot to be said too for the culturally conservationist skepticism of e.g. George Scialabba (a debate between Geo and Aaron on these topics would be a lot of fun to watch). But this kind of engagement, which would differ a little from the Frank-era Baffler, might allow the magazine to keep what was really great about the old incarnation, while updating it for different times. The mission of the magazine, as Summers sets it out is:

to debunk the dogmas that discourage the intuitions of experience from fully forming in a critical intelligence. But we do not aim to conciliate any person, party or philosophy. We aim to unsettle, and, if necessary, to irritate.

And hence, presumably, to spur argument. I’m happy and excited that the Baffler is back, and look forward to being much unsettled, occasionally irritated, frequently delighted and often spurred to argument by reading it. Again, I encourage readers to subscribe, or to Kickstart, or both, as takes their fancy. I’ve missed it while it’s been away – it’s good to have it back.

Update: @zunguzungu is asking Amy Lynn Alexander, who represents the Chronicle on Twitter (@Chronicle_Amy), whether the Chronicle has any standards for what constitutes acceptable scholarly practice for their bloggers, and if so, what these standards are. He’s not getting any answer.

Update 2: The CHE’s editor has written a note telling us that Ms. Riley has been canned, that the Chronicle fell down on the job, and that it wants to apologize to its readers, several thousand of whom were angry enough to leave comments expressing their unhappiness. Which is all very nice, but I don’t think that it’s the readers who need an apology. It’s the graduate students who had their work trashed by a lazy incompetent hack, who was outraged at the suggestion that she should have read it before throwing slurs thanks to the CHE. Perhaps the editor has written to these students privately; perhaps not.

This unashamed mash note from Bill Emmott, former editor of the Economist presents a class of a triple-distilled tincture of the prevailing globollocks on Sarkozy’s victory in France. You don’t need to read the actual column to get the gist; just the Pavlovian dinner-bell talking points that it strings together.

France … paralyzed by powerful interest groups … political elite … beholden … or … afraid … takes a brave outsider … precisely Sarkozy’s appeal … Reagan or a Thatcher … A “rupture” is what France needs … showing that his country is not doomed to decline … cadres of highly globalized managers … etc … etc

I don’t see the words “tough,” “clear-headed,” or “reform” anywhere, so it isn’t quite the full bob major, but it’s close.

Now, his successor as editor at the Economist plays the same tune again, but even more crudely, deploring Sarkozy’s probable successor.

France desperately needs reform .. .neighbours have been undergoing genuine reforms … deep anti-business attitude … proposing not to reform at all … refusal to countenance structural reform of any sort … resistance to change … hostile to change … Until recently, voters in the euro zone seemed to have accepted the idea of austerity and reform. … would undermine Europe’s willingness to pursue the painful reforms it must eventually embrace.

I’ve no idea what Hollande is going to be like (except that he’s certainly going to be disappointing). But I do know that this is one of the most exquisitely refined examples of globollocks that I’ve ever seen. It’s as beautifully resistant to the intellect as an Andropov era Pravda editorial. A few more years of this and the Economist won’t have to have any human editing at all. Even today, I imagine that someone with middling coding skills could patch together a passable Economist-editorial generator with a few days work. Mix in names of countries and people scraped from the political stories sections of Google News, with frequent exhortations for “Reform,” “toughminded reform,” “market-led reform,” “painful reform,” “change,” “serious change,” “rupture,” and 12-15 sentences worth of automagically generated word-salad content, and you’d be there.

I wonder whether even the writer of this editorial would be able to define ‘reform’ or ‘change’ if he were asked, beyond appealing to some sort of ‘social protection bad, market good’ quasi-autonomic reflex embedded deep in his lizard brain. I also wonder whether the people in there are as cynical about their product as Andropov-era journalists were, or whether they actually believe the pabulum they dish out.

We write to communicate an untenable situation facing the Harvard Library. … The Faculty Advisory Council to the Library, representing university faculty in all schools and in consultation with the Harvard Library leadership, reached this conclusion: major periodical subscriptions, especially to electronic journals published by historically key providers, cannot be sustained: continuing these subscriptions on their current footing is financially untenable. … It is untenable for contracts with at least two major providers to continue on the basis identical with past agreements. Costs are now prohibitive. … since faculty and graduate students are chief users, please consider the following options open to faculty and students (F) and the Library (L), state other options you think viable, and communicate your views:

Make sure that all of your own papers are accessible by submitting them to DASH in accordance with the faculty-initiated open-access policies (F). Consider submitting articles to open-access journals, or to ones that have reasonable, sustainable subscription costs; move prestige to open access (F). If on the editorial board of a journal involved, determine if it can be published as open access material, or independently from publishers that practice pricing described above. If not, consider resigning (F).

Some of this may be hardball bargaining with the two unnamed providers (one of which, I presume, has a name starting with E). But not very much – to state the problem so bluntly, and to encourage faculty to stop publishing in, and resign from the boards of non-open access journals sounds more like pushing for system-change than for a better deal within the current system. This may be the beginning of the end.

Hans Blix had five months to find weapons. He found nothing. We’ve had five weeks. Come back to me in five months. If we haven’t found any, we will have a credibility problem.

I’ll confess that I was a bit disappointed last week, when Charles Krauthammer didn’t make the cut for Atrios’ shortlist for Wanker of the Decade (he did get a nod-in-his-direction though; Fred Hiatt’s nod was intended to honor the Washington Post’s editorial page as a whole). But having reflected a bit, I think this was the right call. To be a really first rate wanker, you have to be at least partially oblivious to what you are. I’ve always had the sense that Krauthammer knows exactly what he is – nasty and thoroughly mendacious. Not a wanker then, but rather worse than a wanker. He’s whatever it is that Karl Rove is (when rugose and squamous entities drag out their tortured forms from under rocks, to caper and desport themselves beneath the gibbous moon, they console themselves at least they’re not working for American Crossroads).

By the way, next year will be the tenth anniversary. Still writing for the Washington Post, still syndicated, still on the talk shows.