The Economic Libertarian

I’m going to make a confession to a kind of intellectual laziness that I struggle with. I have a lot of trouble synthesizing concepts. I’m very intuitive, in that I get struck with lightning bolts of thought where suddenly things leap into a web, seemingly of their own accord. Note the seemingly – I’m not saying they actually do link of their own accord. It’s the result of subconscious thoughts, of nagging doubts and things touching the fringe of my mind every time a related concept comes up. Since I can subconsciously synthesize thoughts very effectively I usually appear to be more skilled at that than I am. Since I am also quite well read and have a large number of concepts that I’ve absorbed, I appear generally intelligent.

Yet in a very real sense I’m not. I have trouble taking concepts and deliberately checking them against each other for links or contradictions. I realized this while reading Ayn Rand’s book “Philosophy: Who Needs It”. This problem I have is particularly bad with philosophy. Yet it’s not a problem such that I’m incapable, as nice as it would be to say so. I can’t say “But I can’t be blamed for that!” if accused of this particular thing. I’m fully capable. I just don’t do it.

I read a lot of philosophy. Ayn Rand’s philosophy has always been especially appealing, because it is written in a style which is eminently readable, and that style contrasts favorably with philosophies presented by other authors. It struck me though that what I do – to absorb entire philosophies and thenpick one as “feels right” to follow consistently – is extraordinarily ironic. I’ve always known I wasn’t an Objectivist. To be struck by this particular lightning bolt was downright amusing.

At least I keep my mind active, if not consciously so, and am open to even unpleasant realizations. I’m prone to just going flabberghasted when the web of concepts abruptly flashes into clarity and I find myself disproven. I don’t flail though. I adapt, adjust, and move on.

There’s a beneficial consequence of this too. It’s reminded me that I really need to study more rigorously(by rigorous methods, not with more effort) in the future!

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Whether you don’t do something bad, or you do something good, is an important philosophical distinction to make.

The easiest example, the one used a year ago in a philosophy class, is the question of lying.

If you live by the rule “Tell The Truth” then when anyone asks you something, no matter what the consequences of their having information would be, you tell it to them. If one man ran away from another one, ducked into a building, and the guy behind him (bearing a weapon and a murderous expression) asked where he went, you’d be obliged to point out the building.

If you live by the rule “Tell No Lies” then when anyone asks you something, you can first consider whether their intentions are honorable, and whether their having a particular piece of information would be good or not. In the case above of the thug, you couldn’t say you didn’t know, it’d be a lie. But you could say you wouldn’t tell him, or you wouldn’t help him, or you didn’t believe he had good intentions. Even better, you could avoid putting yourself at risk by running away without pointing out the building.

I want to record this because I’ve thought it was quite clever and insightful ever since I first heard it. I’ve always thought that this dichotomy might have implications in policy too. I can’t think of any right now though. Comments are welcome.

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