The Benefits of Linguistic Prescriptivism.

I recognise that language in general and English specifically is by its very nature a fluid thing. I am all in favour of introducing new words, phrases and expressions to the language. English has, probably deservedly, been described as the sort of language that "takes other languages down back alleys, beats them up and rifles through their pockets for spare vocabulary". Native words change meaning all the time, and words that were obscene or insulting even within living memory are used as terms of endearment — and vice versa.

There remain three travesties up with which I simply refuse to put. The first: nonsense. I couldn’t care less makes logical sense. I could care less, when taken literally, means “I do care”, yet for some reason is used in place of the proper expression to mean “I don’t care”. I have heard the expression I could care less used correctly precisely once: on Green Day's American Idiot where it's used to emphasise the difference between the narrator and his apathetic community.

The second: deliberate inefficiency. Why do people feel the need to invent the word burglarize (which I spell with a z in contrast to my usual near-pathological aversion to that form, as I do with Americanize and novelize, to show my disapproval of the word in question) when we already have the perfectly serviceable, shorter, and more pronounceable burgle? (The original root word is burglar, which is why it's spelt with an A: burgle is a back-formation.)

The third: confusion of words such as alternate and alternative, being informed of your confusion, and subsequently refusing to use the correct word. It's this refusal that bothers me, because it amounts to deliberate muddying of one's language — and quite apart from the obvious question as to why you'd want to do that, it can, over time, eradicate what was once quite a useful distinction from the language. I can understand such a misuse in the mouth of someone who doesn’t know any better. The words are similar in form and meaning, which makes them easy to confuse — but this makes it especially important to make the effort to distinguish them. “But everybody does it” is not a valid reason to continue to be sloppy and careless, confusing, and potentially downright misleading. It’s not that hard to remember the difference, especially when the endings on the words make it clear that one is either a verb or a verby noun and the other is either an adjective or a descriptive noun.

I'm all in favour of being creative and flexible with language. My favourite writers all have something in common: they knew their language well and didn't just follow the rules; they were able to bend the rules to make it express things it was not necessarily designed to express. The same goes for good poets and lyricists. But this sort of rule-bending differs from the forms of laziness mentioned above in three important respects. Firstly, it is creative, designed for a specific expressive purpose (even if that purpose is a single joke). Secondly, it respects the principle that one can and should bend the rules only when one understands why those rules are there in the first place (more on this, in the wider sense, another day). Thirdly, if it sticks around, it can enrich the language itself (Shakespeare is the textbook example of this; scores of forms and constructions which we consider natural today were if not invented then certainly codified in his work, though the claim that he invented thousands of words is hyperbole), whereas the examples of bad English above can only diminish it.

The Reservation.

I propose a reservation of sorts. An area of land, in which are plenty of natural resources for the support of its inhabitants, in which anyone who wishes may go and live without any of the obligations or benefits of citizenship. Of course, it is not quite as simple as that. The State may not interfere with this reservation in any way. The only liberties of which the inhabitants of the reservation are deprived are those which proceed from citizenship itself, because of this requirement of non-interference.

• Whereas the State may not interfere with the conduct of the inhabitants of the reservation, it may not enforce its own laws there in any way, nor may it enter into any arrangements with an inhabitant of the reservation.
• Whereas the State has the right to public property, it may and should prohibit its own currency from being taken into the reservation, and it may and should prohibit inhabitants of the reservation from using public lands or infrastructure (including transport networks, water, power or communications infrastructure). (May here descends from the right to property; Should from the responsibility of the State to its citizens only and from the libertarians’ own opposition to free lunches.)
• Whereas the State may not interfere with the liberty of the inhabitants of the reservation, it may not offer any form of legal guarantee on any contract involving an inhabitant of the reservation.
• Whereas entry into the reservation must be a result of a conscious, informed, deliberate and free choice, it must be preceded by a cooling-off period of, say, thirty days.
• Whereas entry into the reservation must be a result of a conscious, informed, deliberate and free choice, it must be restricted to citizens over the age of independence.
• Whereas entry into the reservation must be a result of a conscious, informed, deliberate and free choice, the inhabitants of the reservation must waive any right to parenthood. This entails a requirement either for mandatory sterilisation of anyone entering the reservation, or the raising of children of inhabitants of the reservation as orphans. Whereas the State may not interfere with the conduct of the inhabitants of the reservation; whereas many libertarian systems view giving birth as an act of force (and therefore wrong) in itself; and whereas all other things being equal, an orphan’s lot is not as good as that of a child raised by parents (biological or otherwise); the former option is likely the better one. Ideally, such sterilisation ought be permanent but reversible, in case an inhabitant of the reservation should decide to rejoin society; but it is more important that the procedure be as effective as possible, as unlike normal irresponsible parenthood, there is no easy fix if a child is accidentally born in the reservation, because the State may not interfere with the conduct of the inhabitants of the reservation.
• Whereas entry into the reservation entails the forfeiture to the State of currency and any property whose ownership depends upon the state; and whereas no form of State-recognised currency may enter or leave the reservation; one may not enter the reservation if one has any dependants (whether they be spouses, descendants, other family or nonrelated persons) unless one ensures and can prove that their care is provided for prior to such forfeiture. Even if one does not have any moral responsibility to any dependants, one may and should choose to distribute that property which one will not or cannot take into the reservation, much in the manner of a will, rather than merely forfeit it.

This reservation need not actually be a separate, fenced-off area of land; it's more a political idea, and could be adopted as a form of legal fiction. One could choose to renounce one's citizenship of the State and "enter the reservation" by severing all ties between himself and the State. Of course, this would make him practically unemployable (or at least unemployable by any business that would pay him in legal tender), and severely restrict his movements (since he would be unable to access public roads); a separate, delineated area would probably be preferable to those who would renounce their citizenship.

It would be theoretically possible for the inhabitants of the reservation to set up their own independent system, with its own regulatory bodies and so on — but, even ignoring the fact that it's against the libertarian's ideals to do so, why would they go to the effort of doing so when it would take a much lesser effort to reform the State in the first place? (For this reason, the reservation would also serve as a form of insurance — if the State did become too far gone, and it became easier to start afresh than implement reform, the State would lose its citizens at a faster and faster rate and the reservation could supplant it. This sense of competition would serve to keep the less appropriate motives of the State in check.)

Spoilsports.

And then there are those of us who'd rather no government at all: economic libertarians, anarcho-capitalists, and their ilk.

Mark Rosenfelder explains very well many of the problems with these positions, practically and morally. It's an erudite article, and if you're not overly familiar with these ideas it's probably the best layman's explanation I've found — it's certainly biased, as his goals are to discredit libertarians and their ideals, but as far as I'm concerned said ideals were never worth crediting in the first place.

The short version is that libertarianism favours the elimination of government regulation and the absolute freedom of citizens. It's based on the idea of absolute individual sovereignty and, relatedly, absolute property rights. Sounds nice and dandy, but this extends to the abolition of market regulations, safety regulations, and all public services on the one hand, and the view of all taxation as theft and law enforcement (no matter what sort of case or whether the "victim" is guilty) as the immoral "initiation of force" on the other. The general hope is that the market forces will ensure a fair outcome overall; but these idealists are poor economists. The practical results we see when libertarian tenets are actually implemented are a ballooning gap between rich and poor, increasing poverty overall, and the erosion of workers' rights. Furthermore, taking power away from "the government" doesn't mean the power itself goes away. It is usurped usually by corporations and landlords, and to a lesser degree by churches and social organisations, none of which have the legal accountability of a government — especially when that government is small and powerless.

However.

While my own ideals are quite authoritarian — indeed, I'm in favour of certain restrictions on personal liberties that have appalled more mainstream ethicists — I do believe in the basic premises of liberalism: that everyone is entitled to his own conception of the good, his own ideal to which he aspires. Of course, you can't stop people from holding beliefs no matter how hard you try, short of killing them. But the idea is that insofar as to act on your beliefs interferes with nobody else's similar rights, nobody has the right to stop you. Libertarian policies demonstrably do interfere with the rights of others, by removing the checks and balances on power and the citizen's recourse to the law when he is treated unfairly. The question we must therefore ask is, is there a way in which a libertarian could act upon his own conception of the good, without treading on what we consider the rights of citizens of an effective and (by design, at least) benevolent State?

I think there is. Subject, of course, to whether the libertarian's conception of the good is genuinely the absence of state interference in his life, or just his desire to grab the biggest share of the pie, to which end he sees embracing libertarianism as the quickest means. Fortunately, this solution also enables us to discriminate between these two, and as an added bonus can be structured so as to actually teach a few of them a Valuable Lesson™. I'll go over it in detail on Tuesday.

Told You So.

Philosophy, in terms of both these [major] parties, died a decade ago. Probably longer.

— Tony Windsor.

We should have a great big swear-jar in this building.

— Rob Oakeshott.

Normally I don't like to brag. Okay, that's a lie, I'm actually wonderful at banging on about how awesome I am. Still, I'm not exactly experienced at this game. I didn't expect Katter to faff about with making up his mind for 17 days, and I certainly didn't expect Wilkie's decision to rest on a party offering him too much. On the other hand, I saw pretty much the rest of the scenario playing out in my first post, a few days after the election. I felt pretty sure it'd come down to these two. While I think Oakeshott was quite wrong to say that there was almost nothing in the decision — both because that's not the kind of talking that wins you votes and because both parties, despite their shriveled husks of ideology, are still distinguishable on policy grounds — and I got tired of his waffling on once he made it plain he wasn't sending us back to the polls, I am thankful that they went with what is on balance the lesser evil.

Am I happy with the result? As happy as I could expect to be, I suppose. I didn't want to see another election any time soon; and the Greens strongly disapprove of Conroy's internet filter, which should keep that off the table for the time being. Whatever happens over the next few years, the Greens will almost certainly grow in power. We might even get that gay marriage bill through before the next election.

I was amused that some protested that a Labor-Green alliance would lead to the most left-wing government we've ever seen. That's supposed to be a bad thing? Progress is inevitable. The right, by and large, tries to control it by limiting it. The left tries to control it by guiding it in the right direction. I think it's quite clear whose approach is going to be more successful. It always has. I'd like to hope that this represents a turning point for Australian politics: that even if a major party does regain a majority in the lower house, the number of crossbenchers in the Senate who actually do stand for something — the Greens, Xenophon, maybe even the Sex Party given their performance this election — is able to keep the bastards honest in a way we haven't seen so far.

Also, to Barnaby Joyce and others who think the independents have acted against their electorates' wishes by supporting Labor: Have a cup of concrete and stop whinging. If their electorates wanted the coalition to win, they would have voted for them. To those who think that the resulting government is in any way illegitimate, remember: it's not the individual party with the most seats, or even the most votes. If it were, Labor would have taken government several times when it took the Nationals to get the Libs over the line. Just because Labor has resorted to a coalition doesn't rob them of legitimacy. If the Libs had managed to woo Windsor and Oakeshott, we wouldn't hear any of those complaints — or if we did, it would be from the other side and it would be just as misinformed. If you don't like the rules, that's fine, but you have no right to suggest they aren't being followed.

Insurance, or, I Like Pears.

Insurance makes sense in a lot of cases. It's cheaper to insure my car for years than to have one accident uninsured. Peace of mind is not a negligible benefit in itself; you sleep a lot easier at night when you know that even if things go pear-shaped, you're at least going to have some help picking up the pieces. Of pear. Mixing metaphors is fun, kids.

Of course, there are some gripes I do have with the way it's implemented. I remember hearing a story about a car insurance company which paid an analyst a large amount of money to refine their algorithms for determining premiums. The analyst came up with a solution that would be much more accurate in terms of reflecting the likelihood of having to pay out a claim, much fairer on drivers, and even cheaper in the long run. The company rejected it because it would require their sales staff to push a couple of extra buttons to set up a policy.

There is, however, one type of insurance I can't really understand: health insurance. I understand why it has to exist, given how useless the government healthcare system in this country is — more on this another day — but the way it's done baffles me. You can buy cover that will supposedly cover everything that happens in a hospital — but whoops, it won't cover your wisdom teeth operation because that's a dental procedure and it comes under extras. The cynic in me wonders if if you bought extras cover instead, they wouldn't cover your wisdom teeth operation because it's done in a hospital. You can buy a policy that will cover a pair of spectacles every year for the rest of your life, but won't fork out a cent to buy you laser corrective surgery — which will be just as permanent, much less annoying, and probably end up costing the insurance company half as much. If you change cover, your waiting period starts afresh — even if you were upgrading. You're paying more, and you can't even use the cover you were paying for to start with!

Also, I really don't like that you can't pick and choose. Most of the providers I've looked into offer the same three levels of cover, with very little difference between providers, and with no ability beyond this to choose what you want covered. What if you've had your vision corrected with lasers already? You neither want nor need optical cover, but if you want that extras cover you have to buy it. What if you've already had your wisdom teeth removed? They aren't going to grow back, but if you want other dental cover you have to buy the whole package. What if you're a sane, sensible person who trusts the doctors when they say that if Insert Natural Remedy Name Here actually worked, they'd be prescribing it? Sorry, you still have to pay for this other loony to have his acupuncture/water divination/snake oil therapy if you want your cover.

Forehead, meet palm. You're going to be spending a lot of time together.

Democracy and the Philosopher-King.

Until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political greatness and wisdom meet in one, and those commoner natures who pursue either to the exclusion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities will never have rest from their evils, — nor the human race, as I believe, — and then only will this our State have a possibility of life and behold the light of day. Such was the thought, my dear Glaucon, which I would fain have uttered if it had not seemed too extravagant; for to be convinced that in no other State can there be happiness private or public is indeed a hard thing. 

— Plato, The Republic Book V (trans. Benjamin Jowett).

The comments on Tuesday's post brought to my mind the notion of the philosopher-king: one who gains power in order to effectively execute his philosophy, or who gains philosophy in order to justly execute his power. Philosophy in this sense means wisdom and knowledge about what is good for the state, good for the people, and (if you still believe in such things) good simpliciter.

Plato perhaps more than anyone else, and The Republic perhaps more than any other work, laid the foundations of democracy both in the classical world and in the modern one. Despite this, the way in which democracy is set up in most modern societies seems to me to be perversely opposed to the success of anyone who wants to actually become a philosopher-king. Politicians who stick to their ideology, take the time and expend the effort necessary to adequately inform themselves, and refuse to compromise (those who gain philosophy), are much less likely to be elected than those who bend themselves to the will of the Party or the whims of the public. Conversely, politicians who suck up to whoever funds their campaigns, base policy decisions on what will win them marginal seats, and do whatever it takes to actually get themselves elected (those who gain power), are much less likely to act responsibly and in the interests of the people with that power.

Does it have to be that way? I don't think so. But the implementation of a solution rests at present on it being in the interests of enough people who have enough power to make it happen. Even the independents who are holding the balance of power (in the sense of holding it over Gillard and Abbott's heads) are concerned first for stability, second for their electorates, and much less with the initially touted potential for parliamentary reform.

Phobia.

Opposition to gay marriage makes even less sense than most social-conservative policies. The arguments dreamed up in its defence are particularly pitiful. But it's my belief that we don't even need to answer those arguments directly. Sure, we can point out that the existence of gay married couples doesn't in any way degrade existing straight marriages, and if a straight couple feels that it does then it's the fault of their own bigotry; we can point to studies showing that children aren't any worse off, socially or psychologically, with gay parents, and to similar rates of divorce among straight and gay couples in places where it's already legalised.

The first reason is that in this area, the law is relatively powerless. Civil unions confer many of the major benefits of marriage and are a definite step in the right direction; if you're savvy enough, or know someone who is, you can draw up contracts to cover most of the rest of it. Yes, it's not neat, and it's probably not cheap, but it's doable. Furthermore, the only people who talk about civil unions are the people whose business is the law. No young Romeo is about to fall to his knees and cry "Julian, my darling. Will you civilly unite with me?" (Linked, an explanation far better and conciser than I could write.) You might not be "legally married", but if you've got your own priorities straight, you'll be as married as the rest of us where it really counts.

Second reason: We throw around words like homophobic to label people who oppose homosexuality. Why -phobic? We have racism, sexism, speciesism, but here we attach a label that in most cases describes either relatively benign psychological conditions (acrophobic, claustrophobic) or mundane scientific phenomena (oleophobic, hydrophobic). We don't mean it that way, but it lends an aura of acceptability, inevitability to what's really just simple bigotry. "I can't help it; I have a phobia."

But the reality is that it doesn't matter if the Marriage Act is homophobic. No really, it doesn't. We don't need to convince people that homophobia is wrong before we convince them to change it. We can argue against it from a principle that a lot more people accept: that sexism is wrong. It doesn't matter if it's homophobic, because it is also sexist and that should be enough to prove that it's wrong. To wit: subject of course to her consent, I could theoretically marry just about any woman I chose. But I couldn't marry a man no matter how well I knew him or how much I loved him — not because I or he was gay, but because we were both male. Sure, the law exists for homophobic reasons, but it can be torn down on a gender equality basis.

By the way, to any couples planning to get married in Australia, if you're told your celebrant has to read the part of the Marriage Act that defines it as being only between a man and a woman or else your marriage will be invalid, pay attention. This part came as a bit of an unpleasant surprise as we were planning our wedding. More recently, I've looked into the actual Marriage Act. Nobody's going to come along and tell you you aren't "really married", or take away your legal rights. One part of the Act does indeed list those particular words as a requirement to be read at the ceremony, but a couple of sections later is the part that talks about grounds on which a marriage should be considered invalid and failure to have those words read is specifically excluded. I'm no lawyer, so don't take my word as gospel: but look into it for yourself, and work something out with your celebrant, if those words make you as uncomfortable as they make me.