The story, however, does not naturally lend itself to the sort of happy ending which we have learnt to associate with the exit from the state of nature. It does not explain why rational persons, living in a state of nature, should have a preference for the state and seek to invent one (and it is silent on the civic preferences of persons who have been educated in and by the state and have never had occasion to try the state of nature).
Persons are in states, have been there for many generations, and would have no practical means of getting out if they wanted to. States are in the state of nature; many of them have known something approaching the security offered by the super-state when they were part of the Roman Empire, or a British colony; and if they wanted to surrender their sovereignty to a super-state, there are at least some practical steps they could take to try and organize one. They do nothing of the sort. They are quite content to listen to their own voice at the United Nations, leaving it the fatuous irrelevance that it is. Is it, then, beyond reasonable doubt that persons would rush and negotiate a social contract if, like states, they had the option not to do so?
States have known both peace and war throughout history. Some states have died as such because of war, though more states have been born. Most, however, have survived more than one war and continue to muddle through, without finding existence so "nasty and brutish" as to make life within a world state look enticing. Even the very particular prisoners' dilemma in which two nuclear superpowers are exposed to the threat of destruction and to the expense of maintaining a counter-threat, has not so far induced them to seek shelter and assured self-preservation in a Soviet-American contract.
On a less apocalyptic level, "beggar-thy-neighbour" policies in international trade seem to be a perfectly good practical illustration of the prisoners' dilemma as applied to states. Generally speaking, all states could be better off if, by cooperative conduct, they allowed the potential gains from trade to be fully realized, just as all prisoners would be better off if none betrayed the other by confessing. The "dominant strategy" of each state (as the "optimum tariff" argument demonstrates), however, is to engage in discriminatory trade practices, high tariffs, competitive devaluations and so forth. This strategy is "dominant" on the argument that if other states behave nicely and adopt free-trader conduct, the first state will reap advantages from its misbehaviour, while if other states misbehave, it would suffer by not also misbehaving. The supposed outcome of every state adopting its dominant strategy is an escalating trade war with everybody rapidly getting poorer and being unable to do anything about it in the absence of a super-state with powers of coercion. In actual fact, many states much of the time behave reasonably well in international trade. They either do not have a dominant strategy or, if they do, it is not to misbehave. Most states most of the time adhere to GATT rules (which stand for the "cooperative solution" in game-theory parlance). Trade wars are generally minor skirmishes, limited to a few products of a few states and instead of escalating as they should, they usually subside. Such "partial free trade" is achieved, just like "partial peace," without benefit of a state above states and the transfer of power to it. Complete free trade, like total peace, may from most points of view be more satisfactory, but the cost of the added satisfaction must appear prohibitive to the participants; states do not willingly submit to domination even if the dominant entity is to be called the Democratic Federation of Independent Peoples.
People, in the sense of natural persons, however, are supposed by contractarian theory to submit willingly. Unlike states in international relations, people as persons have no opportunity to contradict this supposition. For centuries, since Hobbes if not before, political theory has been assuming that people did not, in fact, very much mind the potential threat of being coerced, being too frightened of the hurt they might suffer in un-coerced "chaos" (this is the Hobbesian version of the social contract), or too interested in the beneficial results of coercion (which is the broader basis of the social contract, laid by Rousseau).*25 I believe this is how one should read the cryptic and profound observation of Leo Strauss (few others have thought more powerfully and deeply about these matters), that Hobbes "created" political hedonism, which transformed life "on a scale never yet approached by any other teaching."*26 It is a not very important detail that instead of pleasure (as hedonists are supposed to seek), Hobbes spoke of self-preservation as the end which explains action.*27 Since Hobbes, it is tacitly treated as a self-evident truth that people need, or want to have, the state because their hedonistic pain-and-pleasure calculus is ipso facto favourable to it.
1.5.21 Recent research into the prisoners' dilemma, both deductive into its logical structure and experimental into actual behaviour in such situations, has established that acceptance of coercion by the participants is not a necessary condition for their finding a "cooperative solution."*28 Some of the crucial steps toward getting this result are: (a) to admit that the dilemma can be confronted more than once (it can be an iterative or sequential "game"), so that reliance on single-stage rationality may not correctly predict the moves of rational players; (b) to make a player's move depend in part on the other player's move in a previous stage of the sequential game, or in some other game altogether (i.e. to make it depend on experience), either player taking account of the reputation established by the other for toughness or softness; (c) to make him play as he ought to if the other player were playing tit-for-tat; (d) to introduce some regard for the relative value of present and future; and (e) to let the increased pay-off of a cooperatively solved game teach people to go for the cooperative solution in subsequent games. It is intuitively plausible that in a state of nature where people do not instantly club each other to death in a single-stage noncooperative performance of the dilemma game, but where they survive for some time and have both occasion and incentive to assess and heed each other's capacity for retaliation, vengefulness, mutual protection, gratitude, fair play, etc. the prisoners' dilemma becomes both very much more complicated and loses much of its inexorability.
Nor need one limit the application of this result to the sole bellum omnium contra omnes. Hobbes makes people choose Leviathan to produce order out of purported chaos. But people need not have chosen Leviathan, since some kind of cooperative solution, some kind of order emerges in the state of nature, too, though it may not be the same kind of order as that produced by the state. Both qualitative and quantitative differences are possible, indeed extremely likely, though it is very hard to form sensible hypotheses about what the voluntary solution would exactly be like. Whether the voluntary product, in turn, is inferior or superior to the state product, will have to remain a matter of taste. The important thing is not to confuse the question of how we like either product, with the far more vital question of how we like the entire society in which order is state-produced, compared to the entire society (the state of nature) in which it is a voluntary arrangement.
What goes for order goes, by simple extension of the argument, for other public goods as well, whose production was supposed to have been altogether prevented by a rigidly interpreted prisoners' dilemma and the related, rather looser free-rider problem.*29 Once a public good, say clean air, paved streets or national defence, gets produced, people cannot be excluded from enjoying it regardless of whether they have paid their share of the cost of producing it. (We shall have occasion in chapter 4, pp. 234-6, to question what "their share," in the sense of the part of the cost that a particular person ought to bear, can possibly mean.) Therefore, many will choose not to bear "their share" and the public good will not get produced or maintained, unless the state steps in to coerce all would-be free riders to pay, at the one hit both overcoming "isolation" by making each individual act as he would if all had one common will, and providing "assurance" to each individual who pays that he is not a lone sucker, for all others pay too.*30 If the general dilemma is conceived of as a sequential game, a society's perpetual learning process, it seems obvious that it can have a solution for each inter
mediate stage, and arbitrary to rule out the likelihood of at least some of the solutions being cooperative, so that as a general proposition, at least some quantities of some public goods will get produced on a voluntary basis.
"Some quantities" of "some public goods" as a result of non-coercive spontaneous solutions, sounds insufficiently affirmative. The reflex reaction of capitalism's adversary may well be that, because of external economies and diseconomies, only an all-embracing compulsory arrangement, i.e. a state, can ensure that the right amount of public goods gets made. In this view, the prisoners' dilemma would represent one limiting case, that of total failure to "internalize," and the state would be the other limiting
case in which the entire benefit of an external economy gets internalized from the state's aggregative point of view. The in-between case of the voluntary association, the spontaneously formed interest group, would stop short of complete internalization and as a consequence would typically tend to fall between the two stools of the unresolved prisoners' dilemma and state provision of the right amount of the good. Nor is it, of course, always true of any and all levels of output that if the state has in fact chosen that level, it considered it (given all constraints, scarcities and competing claims) the "right" one. If the claim that the output of a public good chosen by the state is the right output, is to be more than a tautological statement of the state's "revealed preference," it must somehow be related to some independently derived standard of the optimum.
1.5.25 In the case of individually consumed goods, this standard is, by and large, the Pareto-optimum reached by equating the marginal rates of substitution and transformation between any two goods. But as it is nonsense to speak of a marginal rate of substitution between a public and a private good (a person cannot decide to give up a dollar's worth of chocolate to get a dollar's worth of clean air, law and order or paved street), this standard does not work. When the post-1981 Polish state imports one more water-cannon and reduces chocolate imports by the corresponding sum, the decision can hardly be related to the marginal Polish chocolate-eater's relative liking for law and order and chocolate. If it expresses anything, the decision must express the state's balancing of the real interests of society that it considers important, in proportion to the importance it attaches to each. The individual chocolate-eater is obviously unable to attach the proper weights to the interest of the vanguard of the working class, of the Organs, of proletarian internationalism, etc. How much tax to surrender to the state so it may buy law and order or clean air for the use of the individual taxpayer in question is not a matter of any taxpayer's choice. The state cannot buy a collective good for him.
1.5.26 A standard which will do for "collective choice" (if we must resort, for the sake of argument, to this question-begging concept) what Pareto-efficiency does for individual ones, can always be contrived by supposing either (a) that society has but one will
(e.g. a will manifested by unanimity, or possibly the general will),or (b) that the several more-or-less divergent wills (including, arguably, the will of the state itself) which are present in society can, by a system of weights attached to each, be expressed as one will (what Robert Paul Wolff disdainfully calls "vector-sum democracy").*31
Whoever fixes the relative weights to be attached (i.e. makes the interpersonal comparisons, or reads the general will, or whichever way the reader prefers to phrase it), fixes the "right" output of public goods with respect to the standard he has thus set up for himself. Whatever he decides, he will, therefore, always be in the proud position of having fixed the right output; for there can never be independent proof to the contrary. It is a redundant apology for the state to say "by reading the general will," "by balancing the merits of conflicting claims," "by duly considering public need against the background of its disinflationary policy," etc. it has determined the right output of public goods. For, whatever the output it chose on whichever considerations, it would not have been, according to its own lights, the wrong one, and no one can ever say that somebody else's lights would have led it to a more nearly "correct" determination.
It remains to add that the political hedonist who is content to sign the social contract must somehow or other have convinced himself that he is getting a good deal. The incremental pleasure he expects to derive from having the state arrange the production of the correct amount of order and other public goods, instead of relying on a possibly quite inadequate patchwork of spontaneous arrangements, must outweigh the pain of coercion he thinks he will suffer at the state's hands.
The obvious case where this must hold true is when he does not expect to suffer at all. He will, as a matter of fact, never be coerced if he wills what the state wills, or vice versa, if he can rely on the state to will only what he wills. He must either be the perfect conformist, or he must believe in a benign state which has the power of coercion but lets itself be controlled by those who have none.
Author: Jasay, Anthony de Title: The State
Anthony de Jasay
Advanced Search 1. The Capitalist StateInventing the State: The Instrument of Class Rule
The state is autonomous and subjects the ruling class to its own conception of its interest; it "serves the bourgeoisie despite the bourgeoisie."
"Autonomy" and "instrument," rule and subjection are terms that yield their real meaning only to the dialectic method.
Attempting to interpret the Marxist theory of the state carries more risk than reward. The young Marx, superbly talented political journalist that he was, said incisive and original things about the state, but he did so more under the impulsion of events than in search of a general doctrine. In his later system-building periods, on the other hand, he was not very interested in the state (Engels was a little more so), presumably deflected from the subject by the very force of his theory of class domination, which may be thought implicitly to provide an understanding of the state. In any case he made little effort to make it explicit. This was consistent with his confining the determinants of social change in the "base" and allowing the state, a phenomenon of the "superstructure," either no autonomy or only an ambiguous one. This implicitness is the reason why, despite the much greater respect later Marxists (notably Gramsci and his intellectual descendants) paid the superstructure, one is reduced to speculation about what Marxist theory "must mean," what view it may hold of the forces acting upon and exerted by the state, in order to preserve logical consistency with the whole of its construction.
Such speculation is rendered doubly hazardous by the combination, in much Marxist writing, of the dialectic method with verbose discourse aimed at the ad hoc needs of the day. Owing to the latter, one can nearly always find, in some hallowed text, passages to support almost any stand and its contrary, so that for every "on the one hand" the adept can cite an "on the other" and a "yet we must not overlook that...." The dialectic method, in turn, enables its practitioner to nominate any one out of a pair of contradictory propositions for the role of survivor, of the third member of the triad of thesis-antithesis-synthesis. He can for instance decide, according to the requirements of his argument, that where an object is black but also white, it is in reality white (though black in appearance), or possibly vice versa. It is in this way that the relation of state and subject in Hegel,*32 and that of the state and the capitalist class in Marx, turn out to be perfectly pliable according to the needs of the moment and of the context. (This is also, in a general way, the reason why the average dialectician can virtually always devastate the average non-dialectical argument.)
Having said this, let us nevertheless venture to put forward the bare outline of an interpretation where we will remain committed, as far as possible, to a non-dialectical (hence easy to refute) meaning. It is quite legitimate to take Marxism to hold that the victory of the working class and the extinction of class antagonism means, by definition, that the state withers away. Lenin, understandably, has a strong interest in adopting the contrary interpretation. He goes to immense trouble to argue that the c
essation of class conflict does not entail the withering away of the state. There are no classes but there is a (coercive) state under socialism. Only in the abundance corresponding to full
communism can the state wither away. Its doing so is not a logical implication, but a process in real historical time, about whose required length it would be naive to speculate in advance.
Though there will still be an apparatus for the "administration of things," there will be none for the "government of men." Close reflection is needed to grasp, if grasp one can, how it is possible to "administer things" without telling people to do this or that about them; and how telling people differs from "governing people." A tentative answer, for what it is worth, would seem to be that this becomes possible when men will do what is required of them in order for things to get administered, without being made or commanded to do so.
The State by Anthony de Jasay Page 6