Version of August 1, 2012
[A shorter form was published in The Claremont Review 12: 55-57, Fall
2012]
The Moral Limits of Communitarianism:
What Michael Sandel
CanÕt Buy
Deirdre N. McCloskey
University of Illinois at Chicago
Gothenburg University
Michael J. Sandel. What
Money CanÕt Buy: The Moral Limit of Markets. New York: Ferrar,
Straus and Giroux, 2012. Pp. 244 +viii.
Index.
Michael
Sandel of Harvard teaches Government and, especially, justice, for which he is
internationally known. His book is
sweetly written, and offers a good occasion to examine the moral convictions of
communitarians, and their distaste for the market.
One
cannot but agree with Sandel that the study of markets should be remoralized. We
should know why we believe, morally speaking, that bread should be allocated by
a market but children should not. ItÕs
not enough to simply sneer, from left or right or middle. Even economists need to do the philosophical
work. ÒMarkets are not mere
mechanisms,Ó Sandel wisely observes.
ÒThey embody certain normsÓ (p. 64). ÒMarket reasoning is incomplete without
moral reasoningÓ (p. 81). He is
correct to stand thus against the na•ve wertfrei line which Samuelsonian economists value so much.
But
the book does not do the work. Sandel
is sophisticated about moral and political theory, yet his book is puzzlingly shallow. He does not provide, as he promises
early on, moral reasoning, Òa philosophical framework for thinking throughÓ the
Òrole and reach of marketsÓ (p. 11).
Instead he provides a tendentious assault, often veiled as mere
reporting of what Òsome peopleÓ say (p. 20 and throughout), on what he claims
is an unprecedented drive to price everything, Òmarket triumphalismÓ (p.
14). He does battle with the more easily
defeated utilitarian economists (Judge Richard Posner, for example), but
ignores the best that has been thought and written on the merits of a
commercial and innovative society (by John Tomasi in a recent book among many
others). That is, Sandel doesnÕt
raise the philosophical game of the people he is lecturing. Instead he plays to their least examined
political dispositions—their disposition to mere fairness unanalyzed and their
disposition to mere disgust unhistoricized.
He
does, to his credit, give many interesting examples of the moral dilemma in
choosing money over status or queuing to allocate things, from selling kidneys
to buying baseball players. Yet surprisingly
for someone who has taught over the years 15,000 students in his famous course,
Moral Reasoning 22, SandelÕs moral ideas in the book have no discernible
connection to human moral thinking since Moses and Confucius and Socrates. The kids deserve better.
His
moral thoughts in fact are two only, and thin versions even of these: that
equality is good; and that the sacred can be corrupted by the profane. ÒThe fairness objection [to what money
should buy] asks about the inequality that market choices may reflect; the
corruption objection asks about the attitude and norms that market relations
may damageÓ (p. 110). That,
philosophically speaking, is it.
About
the first, fairness objection, Sandel repeatedly declares without a lot of further
argument that Òpart of whatÕs troubling aboutÓ whatever scheme to market
something he doesnÕt want marketed Òis the unfairness of such a system under
conditions of inequalityÓ (p. 71 and throughout). Such a Òfirst objectionÓ he says (or in
this particular case the Sacramento Bee
newspaper says), is Òabout fairnessÓ (p. 36).
SandelÕs
analysis of equality as a moral principle does not get much beyond the
school-yard taunt that such-and-such is Ònot fair.Ó He uses for example the truncated logic
that Òscalping [of, say, tickets to Shakespeare in the Park or to campsites at Yosemite]
is unfair to people of modest means, who canÕt afford to pay $150Ó (p. 36, italics supplied). The magic word here, uneconomic and unphilosophical, is Òafford.Ó Sandel tells a charming story of his old
college teacher of economics praising his writings but then urging him not to reveal his [the teacherÕs] name
to other economists. Perhaps the teacher was embarrassed by
the uneconomic usage Òafford.Ó
ÒAffordÓ suggests literally that the
person of modest means cannot pay for an item. I cannot ÒaffordÓ to buy Oprah WinfreyÕs
luxury house in Chicago, now up for sale at $2.8 million, even though itÕs a
bargain compared with its earlier asking price of $6 million. That is to say, if I cashed in all my
assets, and got the largest mortgage that I could persuade a bank to give me,
and robbed a few convenience stores on the side, the $2.8 million would be
literally unaffordable, beyond my means.
It is, as the economists put it, outside my budget line.
But
even a person of very modest means—say at the poverty line for his family
of four, $23,050 annual income—can afford
an expenditure of $150. The sum is far,
far inside his budget line. After
all, he affords an occasional harmless indulgence of a quart of ice cream for
the kids or a movie for him and his wife, which add up in a year to a good deal
more than $150.
What
Sandel probably means, though he never says it, is that at such a poverty line the
man of modest means would be pinched, whereas Oprah would scarcely notice the
$150 (or for that matter the $2.8 million). To be sure. But there is no easy argument here, no three-second
philosophical meal to be whipped up by merely mentioning the word. The man of modest means can afford to buy his daily bread, or even afford
scalped tickets to Shakespeare (modest as may be his taste for the Bard: a
point Sandel also slides by). To
use the poverty of the man of modest means as a philosophical tool against
markets you have to have a deeper argument than unanalyzed afford.
ItÕs
not entirely unanalyzed—though SandelÕs analysis would perhaps further embarrass
his teacher of economics. Sandel
makes a supporting argument much heard on the left that Òmarket choices are not
free choices if some people are desperately poor or lack the ability to bargain
on fair termsÓ (p. 112). ÒThe law, in its majestic equality,Ó noted Anatole France, Òforbids the rich
and the poor alike to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal
bread.Ó Yet an economist could tell
Sandel, and France, that Òbargaining on fair termsÓ has little to do with how
incomes arise, that is, how people get into or out of poverty. True, many well-intentioned and bien-pensant folk believe it does. Because they do, most of them accept for
example that going down and joining the union made workers better off, by giving
them better bargaining power against the bosses, even though the historical
evidence is crushing that unionization did not make workers better off (rising
productivity did).
Having
desperately poor people is a moral problem in itself, regardless of the alleged
lack of Òbargaining power.Ó The
moral problem has been partly solved in many countries from 1800 to the present
by commerce and innovation, previously blocked. If power, and not the supply of their
labor relative to demand, were actually the problem the poor faced, the bosses
with their superior bargaining power would drive down their wages to nil. Even $23,050 a year is not nil.
By
international standards the US poverty line of $23,050 corrected for exchange
rates is around the average of world income, and is deemed a comfortably
middle-class income in India. Why
does the fact matter? Because Sandel
does not answer why we Americans should ignore the desperation of people
earning $1 a day in Chad, and attend instead to the ÒunfairnessÓ of charging
for Shakespeare tickets in Central Park.
It is a moral failure of communitarianism that it weighs our fellow New
Yorkers or Angelinos, our community, so much more above other poor people in the
world, ignoring the good for Chadians or Bangladeshis that a commercial and
innovative society would do. Sandel
does not note that the introduction of free markets in Sahil-grown
cotton (as against European and American protection for ÒourÓ farmers) or the
reception of the First WorldÕs garbage (as Lawrence Summers once suggested in
vulgar but sound reasoning) would ameliorate a most terrible lack of
affordability. That is, Sandel does
not face the actual, moral problem—which is poverty, real poverty, the
depths. Instead he recommends that
we fiddle with prices and create queues for Shakespeare in the Park.
The
indirection—fiddling instead of solving—is morally
indefensible. Fifty years ago the
economists Milton Friedman on the right and James Tobin on the left suggested
that we give at least the American poor a minimum income, and stop fiddling
with the prices of housing and of bread and the like. ItÕs a good moral idea, which the French
have implemented (along with a good deal of fiddling, hŽlas). Poverty would be alleviated (at least
State-side), and markets would be left to do their job of making the social pie
as large as possible. Such a
separation of a policy about income from a policy about the market is a
standard analytic ploy in economics. SandelÕs teacher did not get it across to
him.
In
high theory the separation of welfare from allocation is called the Hicks-Kaldor Criterion, and it is, to put it mildly, not above
moral criticism. But to stride past
the economic analysis is to ignore the actual moral problem—poverty—and
its most direct solution. A New Yorker cartoon back in the 1960s
showed a parked bank truck, with the guards handing money to people out of big
sacks. Said one onlooker to another,
ÒWell, at last the War on Poverty has gotten under way!Ó Yes. The comparable policy for the $1-a-day
wretched of the earth is to allow capitalism to rip, which is what China has
been doing since 1978 and India since 1991, with vastly more gain to the poor
than from communitarian policies.
SandelÕs
superficial philosophy ignores too, a slippery-slope objection to allocating
goods outside the price system. If
charging tolls on congested highways is Òunfair to commuters of modest meansÓ (in
SandelÕs repeated formulation of his First Principle, p. 20), what is to stop
us from concluding that charging for bread and housing and clothing and cable
TV and Fritos is ÒunfairÓ?
Nothing. The unanalyzed
dictum that it is ÒunfairÓ that I do not have a 100-foot yacht (really, I do find
it troubling) would slope down to allocation by state direction for everything. North Korea. One can devise moral dicta to stop the slip
down the road to serfdom. But
Sandel does not tell his readers what the counter-dicta might be. He leaves his class to conclude that
unadorned ÒunfairnessÓ is a moral and political taunt suitable to discussions
among grownups.
And
Sandel ignores the moral issue of the source
of unequal incomes, that is, what has famously been called, since Robert Nozick
articulated it in 1974, the Wilt Chamberlain Example. Suppose Chamberlain gets from 4 million
people willingly 25 cents each to watch him perform hook shots. Wilt ends up a millionaire, able to
ÒaffordÓ a moderately big yacht. If
the source of high incomes is legitimate—Fred AstaireÕs feet, Jane
AustenÕs pen—why shouldnÕt such people have preferred access to goods,
even necessities? Professor
SandelÕs lectures here summarized give no reply. Indeed, as argued in 1971 by John Rawls (Sandel
is well known in philosophical circles for attacking Rawls as insufficient
communitarian), if a Carnegie or a Gates innovates in such a way that even the
least among us is made better off, then the prices, including the profits that evoked
their innovation should be left alone, shouldnÕt they? WhatÕs the beef?
Or
turn to the most fundamental philosophical argument (as against the schoolyard,
communitarian argument from ÒaffordÓ) for allowing the price system to get on
with the job. It was articulated
first in 1962 by James Buchanan and Gordon Tullock and popularized by Rawls in his
book a decade later. Suppose that
behind a veil of ignorance of where you or I would end up in some future system
of markets and creative destruction, or their communitarian opposites, we are
asked to decide what constitution we would agree to. Go ahead, choose: neo-liberal markets or
communitarian interventions. Suppose,
as in fact happened in Holland and then Britain in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, we pretty much agree to the Bourgeois Deal—you let
me, a bourgeoise, make a fortune
inventing the coffee trade or very cheap steel or a computer operating system,
and in the third act of the economic drama IÕll make you (all) rich by historical and international standards: $129 a
day per person in the United States in 2010 as against $6 a day in the same
prices in 1800 and $1.40 a day now in Zimbabwe and less in North Korea. The Deal is not in the first act egalitarian,
which is as far as SandelÕs economic and philosophical analysis reaches. Yet by the third act it has been powerfully
enriching for the poor, satisfying a Buchananite-Rawlsian standard of improving
the lot of the worst off. The daily
incomes per person in the average country that has agreed to the Bourgeois Deal
has risen, in real, inflation-corrected terms, from an appalling $3 a day in
1800 (and likewise since the caves) to $100 a day now (thus the UK)—and
much higher if one properly allows for the much higher quality since 1800 of
travel and medicine and economic analysis.
The
poor have benefited the most from capitalism. The sheer, first-act, unanalyzed
equality that Sandel advocates would have killed the modern world and kept us
in the appalling poverty of the human condition down to 1800. In fact in some countries it did, such
as India after 1947, under Gandhi-plus-London-School-of-Economics
egalitarianism, the ÒLicense RajÓ and Òthe Hindu rate of growth,Ó as the
Indians themselves bitterly described their communitarian economy. When I talk to friends who think like
Sandel I worry that their dispositions will kill, quite unintentionally, the
only chance for the worldÕs poor to achieve the scope for a full human life.
Sandel
is not untutored. He knows such
arguments, I imagine, and anyway they are not rocket science. Perhaps he tells them to the kids in the
fifth week of his course. I hope
so. But in the present book, the
better to cast doubt on a neo-liberalism he detests, he has chosen not to reveal
the other side, and to rely instead on a non-philosophical notion of schoolyard
fairness as a First Principle. It
is as though he has contempt for the common reader, and is unwilling to assume
that she could adjudicate the serious arguments, pro and con, if they were
presented.
* * * * *
His
Second Principle, and his much better argument for what money canÕt buy, is
that it can cause the Sacred to be spoiled by the Profane. Sandel does not actually use the
theological words. He would have
benefitted from studying theology, and would have gotten further in his moral
philosophy. Since he has elsewhere nice
things to say about the religious tradition, I suppose he could get serious
about the sacred and profane, if he would only work at it.
Meanwhile,
though, his theory remains at the simpliste
level of an unanalyzed contrast between the two, up vs. down. His only analysis is that Òwe corrupt a
good, an activity, or a social practice whenever we treat it according to a
lower norm than is appropriate to itÓ (p. 46). Sensible. But Sandel provides no philosophical framework for deciding
what is lower, and why we are
disgusted when professional ethics in banking, say, is corrupted by sheer
maximization of profits.
One
framework, for example, might be the virtue ethics common to the West and the
East since the sixth century BCE.
It would note that some goods (devotion to God, to parenthood, to
philosophical analysis) are neither self-goods arising from the virtues of
prudence and temperance or other-goods arising from the virtues of justice or
human love. They are tertia, giving point to human lives. Perform the mental experiment, as
Aquinas did in the 1250s, and as Elizabeth Anscombe did in the 1950s during the
revival of virtue ethics (a feat performed mainly by female British analytic
philosophers, together with a few honorary women such as Alasdair Macintyre). Imagine a life without the transcendent virtues of hope
(having a project) or faith (having an identity) or spiritual love (having a reason
to strive towards God or Baseball or Science). As the early Anglican theologian Richard
Hooker put it in 1593, ÒMan doth seek
a triple perfection. . . . For
although the beauties, riches, honors, sciences, virtues [i.e., powers], and
perfections of all men living, were in the present possession of one; yet
somewhat beyond and above all this there would still be sought and earnestly
thirsted forÓ (Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, First Book,
XI, 4).
Sandel
does, again, give many good examples of the danger from slipping the profane
market into matters best left to a sacred, somewhat beyond yet earnestly
thirsted for. His book is mainly raw
examples—scores and scores of them.
We can agree in 2012 that parenthood is sacred, and therefore selling
children is nowadays regarded as disgusting, and even Òtrafficking in the right
to procreate promotes a mercenary attitude towards children that corrupts
parenthoodÓ (p. 71). Paying a child
to read a book may give her the idea that reading books is Òa way of making
money [though in truth it is], and so erode, or crowd out, or corrupt the love
of reading for its own sakeÓ (p. 61).
Paying for the daily paper is one thing; paying to have a second child
in China is another (though again it is notable that Sandel does not reflect on
the direct solution, which would be to drop the One Child Policy itself; he
believes, with many on the anti-economic left, expressed in eugenics, that the
community has an interest in stopping births).
His
examples suggest why the growing fashion for what the professor of economics Robert
Frank calls approvingly Òlibertarian paternalism,Ó the ÒnudgingÓ that the
professor of law Cass Sunstein has brought into the Obama administration, might
be mistaken. ÒIf cash can cure us
of obesity,Ó Sandel asks rhetorically, channeling the nudgers,
Òwhy cavil about manipulation?Ó
ÒOne answer,Ó Sandel notes, Òis that a proper concern for our physical
well-being is part of self-respect,Ó and that Òpaying people to take their meds
does little to develop [the proper concerns for oneÕs physical well-being]. . . and may even undermine themÓ (p. 59). Yes.
Here
he sounds indeed sweetly libertarian, since self-respect is one of the chief
goods of a market society—in which it is not the community that takes all care of us. He might have reflected, as Tomasi does
in his book, about the self-respect that comes from earning oneÕs way. Minimum-wage laws that prevent people
from working might undermine self-respect, by making unskilled people into
wards of the community. But Sandel,
following his teaching plan of superficial philosophy combined with numerous
unanalyzed and politically slanted examples, does not reflect.
Sandel
is persuasive, admittedly, when he goes after the na•fs of Prudence Only, especially my fellow
Chicagoans such as the economist Gary Becker and the alarmingly productive
federal judge Posner or the freakonomics writers Steven Leavitt and Stephen Dubner. Sandel is right that what is called
Òagency theory,Ó which has taken over American graduate schools of business in
the past forty years, is na•ve in declaring that all we need is incentives,
like trained seals. We also need
professionalism and judgment and history and norms, as the bankers have
recently learned. But going after
the Chicagoans is like shooting fish in a philosophical barrel.
Yet
Sandel offers no philosophical standard
for the bankers or for his students.
One can readily agree that buying grades in school or buying honorary
degrees, or paying for a friendÕs advice or a husbandÕs sexual services, are viewed
nowadays by Òsome peopleÓ as immoral.
But why exactly, professor? Once upon a time all such things were
for sale. In the European Middle
Ages one could buy almost anything—wheat and iron, yes, but also
husbands, marketplaces, kingdoms, eternal salvation. Sandel claims repeatedly that
Òmarket triumphalismÓ is a novelty.
But thatÕs bad history, albeit the sort that most people believe: that
in olden days we were pure and fair, and now we are capitalist and
corrupt. The golden age of
allocation by fairness and disgust was not olden days but 1933-1968. Before 1933 markets ruled, in China and
India as much as in England and Italy.
Sandel
worries properly that the market can crowd out the sacred. A corporate market in, say,
instruction in elementary classrooms can crowd out unbiased teaching about
capitalism. Yet Sandel does not
tell his own classroom that state schools can crowd out unbiased teaching about,
say, the environment.
And
what about crowding in? A society in which goods are
allocated by race or gender or Party membership is not obviously superior in
moral terms to one in which prices rule.
Sandel declares that Òwe must also ask whether market norms will crowd
out non-market normsÓ (p. 78). But
he provides no philosophical analysis of how we would answer the opposite crowding,
as when non-market norms of Jim Crow in the Sandelian
golden age crowded out the market norm that a black personÕs money is as good
at a lunch counter as a white personÕs.
A market society is by no means contemptible ethically, if one actually
looks into the ethical effects and thinks about them. The French spoke in the eighteenth
century of doux commerce, the
civilizing effect of markets introduced into societies of status or isolation.
What
then? This: Sandel has not treated
his students and his readers morally.
He has given them many, many examples tending, he thinks, to confirm
their uncritically Progressive biases.
But he has withheld from the students the moral philosophy that would
allow them the dignity of an intellectual choice.
Over
the front door of the late-medieval city hall in the Dutch city of Gouda is the
motto of the first modern economy, the first large society in which commerce
and innovation instead of state regulation and social status were honored. It says, Audite et alteram partem—Listen even to the other side. ItÕs good advice for a society of the
bourgeoisie, and for a classroom of the philosophers.