Whose Case for Liberty is Correct--and So What?

Whose Case for Liberty is Correct—and So What?

By Roger E. Bissell

[This essay was delivered in 1979 to a local Libertarian discussion group in Nashville, Tennessee, and it was revised in 1980, after a companion essay, "The Moral Majority vs. God" was written and presented to a local Unitarian church.]

There are at least two encouraging signs of health in the libertarian movement. Libertarians are making an increasing number of overtures to the religious community, and religious and non-religious libertarians are making a stronger effort to ease the tensions that exist between them.

The purpose of this essay, as with my companion essay, “The Moral Majority vs. God: Reconciling Libertarianism and the Judeo-Christian Tradition,” is to push these processes along by considering certain issues in a positive, constructive way. The hope is that more religious non-libertarians will be persuaded to join the movement, and that religious libertarians will be persuaded to stay in the movement.

This essay focuses specifically on the “internal” problem confronted by the libertarian movement in regard to religion. Theists and atheists, alike, claim to derive libertarianism from their philosophical and religious beliefs. Whose case is correct—or, at least, more correct? And if such a thing could be determined, what difference would (or should) it make to the libertarian movement?

How tolerant of the diverse religious or philosophical beliefs of our fellow libertarians must we be? To what extent and in what ways can we air our differences without causing the movement to self-destruct?

At a time when the enemies of human liberty are making well-financed, determined efforts to bring the religious community into their camp, the importance of arriving at satisfactory answers to these questions cannot be stressed too highly.

Whose Case for Liberty is Correct?

As I demonstrated in “The Moral Majority vs. God,” one’s position on (at least some) political issues derives not just from one’s political principles, but also from one’s philosophical and religious premises. This is also true for the various political philosophies themselves—libertarianism, socialism, fascism, and the rest—which are derived from those premises.

Some people hold the same view for radically different reasons. For instance, Leonard Read, a theist, and Ayn Rand, an atheist, both oppose welfare and support freedom of enterprise (to name but two of the many positions they share). Their views can both legitimately be called “libertarian,” even though they arrived at them from different starting points and by different chains of reasoning. (And despite the fact that Rand would not wish to have her views labeled as “libertarian”!)

On the other hand, there are also theists and atheists who believe in statism, who believe that the state has the right to initiate force against its citizens. The Nazis and the Communists are two such groups who differ on religious premises, but agree on the political supremacy of the collective over the individual.

So we see that two people may start out from the same starting point in regard to religion, only to end up with diametrically opposed political views. For example, there are theists who support welfare and theists who oppose welfare, both on doctrinal religious grounds, with copious quotes from the Bible to back up their positions. Similarly, there are atheists, some of whom support welfare and others who oppose it.

One interesting implication of this is that, even though Leonard Read and Ayn Rand have both arrived at a libertarian position, one of them must be wrong! Even if both of them have reasoned correctly, using sound logic, one of them is necessarily wrong—i.e., “right, but for the wrong reasons.”

One of them argues from a religious basis and the other from a non-religious basis, and only one of these starting points is in fact right. Thus, even if both of them use impeccably sound logic, one of their arguments is invalid, nonetheless, because of its false premises.

Many books have been written on the debate between theism and atheism, and this is certainly not the time or place to try to settle the dispute as to whether there is a logical proof for the existence of God or the divinity of Jesus Christ. (See God and Philosophy by Anthony Flew or Atheism: the Case against God by George H. Smith.)

Since we are focusing on the logical connection between philosophical-religious beliefs and political beliefs, however, it is fitting that we look briefly at some circumstantial evidence provided by the principles of deductive reasoning. (Please bear in mind that this is an indirect argument about which position is correct. It is meant to be not so much conclusive, as suggestive and, hopefully, intriguing.)

Consider what we know about reasoning. The form of reasoning is the syllogism, with two premises and a conclusion. (Of course, a number of syllogisms can be linked together to provide more complex proofs of one’s conclusions.)

Generally speaking, when people reason—or try to reason—they do one of four things: they reason from true premises to a true conclusion, from true premises to a false conclusion, from false premises to a true conclusion, or from false premises to a false conclusion.

But if one uses valid logic, i.e., the correct form of the syllogism, only three of these outcomes are possible:

1. One can start with true premises and validly derive a true conclusion, such as: all mammals are infant-nursers, all cows are mammals, and therefore all cows are infant-nursers.

2. One can start with false premises and validly derive a true conclusion, such as: all cows are green, all green things are mammals, and therefore all cows are mammals.

3. One can start with false premises and validly derive a false conclusion, such as: all cows are green, all green things are insects, and therefore all cows are insects.

The one thing you cannot do, providing you use correct logic, is start with true premises and validly derive a false conclusion. If this happens, you have necessarily reasoned invalidly; you have used a faulty syllogism. (For example: all mammals are infant-nursers, all cows are mammals, and therefore all mammals are cows.)

Sound reasoning, however, is even more rigorous than valid reasoning. Sound reasoning depends both on one’s using the correct form of reasoning and on one’s using that form correctly—specifically, by using true premises. (This is important to remember: a logically valid syllogism without true premises provides no guarantee that one’s conclusion will be true.)

Thus, we will define a sound argument as one which has both true premises and valid logical form. An unsound argument, then, is one which has either false premises, or faulty logical form (i.e., is invalid), or both.

At the risk of some oversimplification, we can apply this to the four basic arguments supporting statism and libertarianism.

An atheist libertarian would see the four basic alternatives as follows:

1. Atheistic libertarianism has true premises and a true conclusion. Thus its case for libertarianism is both valid (in its logical form) and sound (having true premises, as well).

2. Theistic libertarianism has false premises and a true conclusion. Thus, its argument in favor of liberty is valid, but unsound.

3. Theistic statism has false premises and false conclusion. Its argument for statism is valid, but unsound.

4. Atheistic statism has true premises and a false conclusion. Its argument is both invalid and unsound.

Obviously, a theistic libertarian would see each of the four alternatives quite differently:

1. Theistic libertarianism has true premises and a true conclusion. Thus, its case for libertarianism is both valid (in its logical form) and sound (having true premises, as well).

2. Atheistic libertarianism has false premises and a true conclusion. Thus, its argument in favor of liberty is valid, but unsound.

3. Atheistic statism has false premises and a false conclusion. Its argument is valid, but unsound.

4. Theistic statism has true premises and a false conclusion. Its argument is both invalid and unsound.

Despite our differences, however, libertarians agree that the only correct argument from philosophical-religious principles to political principles is some form of libertarianism, and that the argument for statism in either form is incorrect. As a consequence of this agreement, if the four alternatives were really as simply as they have just been described—but, unfortunately, they are not—we could easily tell which version of libertarianism is correct.

Here’s how we could (theoretically) settle the dispute over whose case for libertarianism—the atheist’s or the theist’s—is correct. We would need merely to examine the two basic arguments for statism and find out which one is based essentially on faulty logic, and which one is derived with valid logic from its premises. Whichever argument for statism was invalid would, by definition, have a true premise; and the other argument for statism, being valid, would then necessarily have a false premise.

Thus, whichever argument for libertarianism has the same premise as the invalid statist argument, that is the sound argument for libertarianism, for its premise is true and its argument is sound (since its conclusion is assumed true)! And, on the other hand, whichever argument for libertarianism has the same premise as the valid argument for statism, that is the unsound argument for libertarianism, for its premise is false!

So, suppose we could show that the theist argument for statism is logically valid, clear down to its root premise (theism). This would indicate that its root premise (theism) is false, since this is the only way valid logic can arrive at a false conclusion. Thus, even though theistic libertarianism of the Leonard Read variety is true, it is not soundly based, and the religious argument for libertarianism doesn’t work!

Do we have any evidence that the theist argument for statism is logically valid? Yes. Theistic statists dominated the pre-Kantian era, which was influenced by the respect for, and practice of, Aristotelian logic. The most convincing arguments for statism have been made by Aristotelian theists. (See Mortimer Adler’s The Common Sense of Politics.)

On the other hand, suppose we could show that the atheist argument for statism is logically valid, clear down to its root premise (atheism). This would indicate that its root premise (atheism) is false! (Again, since, that is the only way valid logic can arrive at a false conclusion.) Thus, even though atheistic libertarianism of the Randian type is true, it it is not unsoundly based, and the atheist argument for libertarianism doesn’t work!

But does the historical evidence show that the atheist argument for statism is logically valid? No. Few people would grant that atheistic statism is validly derived, as even a casual glance at Marxist and other statist writings reveals a plethora of logical fallacies. Atheistic statists have predominated in the post-Kantian era, which is characterized by a disdain for logic in many academic circles. Their arguments, while emotionally and rhetorically powerful, simply fall flat when subjected to logical scrutiny.

This indicates, then, albeit indirectly, that atheistic libertarianism of the Randian type is the correct position. Unfortunately, this is nowhere near a full proof.

First of all, as already mentioned, it is an oversimplification. There are numerous variants of both the atheist and theist positions, some more rational than others.

Secondly, both theists and atheists frequently use one or more invalid syllogisms in their chains of reasoning. Often they simply omit some of the steps in their reasoning, leaving one to guess at how to reconstruct their full arguments.

And So What?

But suppose that someone actually had the time and patience for the tedious undertaking of weeding out all but the most correct, rational variants of the arguments for statism and libertarianism, and then examining them each for logical consistency. Suppose that they actually validated the Randian version of libertarianism? Or the Readian version, for that matter? What would it prove in practical terms?

It would prove nothing. Being a libertarian “for the right reasons” does not guarantee that one will be a good libertarian. Nor does being a libertarian “for the wrong reasons” preclude one’s being a good libertarian.

To put it another way: having argued correctly and from true premises to libertarianism carries no guarantee that one’s further deductions in applying libertarianism will be correct. And having argued correctly, but from false premises, to libertarianism places no stigma on one’s further conclusions.

In other words, it is important not only that one get to libertarianism from the right starting point and by the right road, but also that one continue on the right road in applying libertarianism. Thus, we have a lot to learn, even if we have more of the truth on our side than our fellow-travelers—be they religious or non-religious—simply because they may have grasped some of the truth that we have overlooked or underemphasized.

This in itself is a very strong argument for tolerance of the diversity of viewpoints within the libertarian movement. Although we need vigorous, forceful argument to get at as much of the truth as possible and to weed out that which is not true, we ought to work toward that truth in a civil, fair, benevolent manner, without the rancor and belligerence that characterizes so much political debate these days.

Tolerance does not mean that we must condone or approve of all the non-violent acts or statements or ideas of our fellow-travelers. But it does mean at the very least that we do not propose to use force or the power of the state to make them or anyone else in our society behave the way we want them to, so long as their behavior respects the rights of others.

In other words, libertarianism implies political tolerance—or perhaps legal tolerance would be a better term. In general, however, just because we must legally tolerate someone we disapprove of morally, there is plenty we can do to pressure them in non-legal, voluntary ways to change their behavior or views. “Live and let live” does mean non-interference in the legal sense, but it permits all kinds of non-coercive social interference.

Granting this, let’s look at the other side of the coin. Are there cases where even voluntary pressure or social interference is inadvisable? Of course. For instance, in the Libertarian Party itself, it is an accepted fact that, despite the broad philosophical differences between various factions, and despite the emotional intensity and antagonism which these differences generate during debates, we can work together harmoniously to achieve our common political goals, if we simply set our differences aside.

Thus, a generous amount of civility and verbal restraint are necessary, if we are to avoid alienating those whose cooperation we need most. But how restrained and civil is it reasonable to expect us to be?

For instance, most of us grew up in the more-or-less repressive, intimidating atmosphere of the Church. Those of us who eventually rejected the authority of religion over our lives were rebelling in no small way against the psychological authority of other people, who thought they knew better than we how best to run our lives.

We felt strong resentment and resistance to that authority and still feel its pressures in various areas of our lives more than we would like to. Thus, even as children ridicule and poke fun at their elders as a way of chipping away at their authority, so too do some of us employ such tactics from time to time in order to minimize religion’s effects on our lives and mental well-being.

It would be nice if everyone were so emotionally mature and had healed so completely from their bad experiences with religion that they no longer felt moved to use such tactics, even as a defense. Unfortunately, most are not and have not. The snide comment slips out, with no deliberate intention of hurting anyone’s feelings, but feelings are hurt anyway.

Religious libertarians need to realize that this kind of thing is probably inevitable and to try to understand where the speaker is coming from. It’s not a matter of “the devil’s work.” At worst, it merely reflects the speaker’s insecurities and lack of self-confidence. More likely, he is not even aware that anyone’s feelings would be hurt by his remarks.

For our part, those of us libertarians who are non-religious need to monitor our tongues a little more closely. We ought to consider the feelings of our audiences, especially on non-political matters, if we hope to win friends and influence people to join our political cause.

Naturally, some people are more sensitive than others, and some are very sensitive. They cannot bear to have a critical remark made about their philosophy or religion. They cannot distinguish between someone who is being deliberately petty, mean, and snide—someone who is being casually, playfully flippant—and someone who is expressing a sincere, thoughtfully considered opinion, which happens to clash with their own treasured views.

If you, dear reader, are one of these people—whether Christian, Jew, Objectivist, or whatever—we more relaxed libertarians can only plead with you: please don’t be so sensitive! Don’t take yourself quite so seriously that every expression of a differing opinion is a personal attack.

We should never forget that our true enemies are out there, the ones who are running our lives and our businesses, consuming our tax dollars, and plotting to get more. Let’s focus our chief energies on putting them back in their places. If we succeed, that will make all of our internal disagreements all the more irrelevant.