Justice without Aggression

April 9, 2009

I believe that I may finally be in a position to outline the first steps in a positive theory of agovernmental order. I here take it as granted that force in defense of property is just, and necessary to the preservation of society. This is to me a quite open question, and Tolstoy has his appeal; however, I shall here assume the typical resolution. Thus, my thesis is that the appropriate exercise of force against aggression does not itself require aggression.1

I work, of course, within my own theory of natural rights: that the sole enforceable right is the right of property in one’s self, possessions, and land, all other supposed rights being the exercise of control over one’s property in certain ways; that force in defense of one’s property is just, and therefore not aggressive; that changes in physical possession do not change legal title, and thus that the seeking of restitution is a continuation of defensive action on behalf of that title; and that the right to defense of property inheres originally to the individual. Thus, the question is whether institutions wholly compatible with this account of justice can effectively regulate society.

From this account of rights, it should be clear what can and cannot be done to maintain order.2 One can defend one’s own property, including using force to reclaim it from those who have taken it, or claiming restitution from those who have destroyed it.3 Furthermore, one may claim in restitution one’s expenses, since they are a loss imposed by the crime. One may not, however, act in preemption of a merely probabilistic harm. Just as we are to hold a defendant innocent until proven guilty beyond a shadow of a doubt, so a shadow of doubt about the immanence of a crime makes self-defense aggression. From this it naturally follows that preventing another from defending his property is aggression. Furthermore, one may not harm the property of another in defense of one’s own, including forcing another to aid one’s defense (which neatly answers the media resolution; all subpoenas are unjust).

This means that no government, as commonly conceived, can satisfy my burden. Inherent to government are, it seems to me, two things: the establishment of a coercive monopoly on force within a jurisdiction, and the coercive collection of revenues. Interference with another’s defense of his property (which extends to collection of restitution) and taxation of any kind to support the institutions of law are aggression, unjustifiable on any grounds (see https://ambulatorysesquipedalian.wordpress.com/2009/04/04/indirect-proof-and-necessary-evils/ on the nonexistence of necessary evils).

So what institutions might justly preserve order? An individual who thought his own resources insufficient for the restoration of his property could hire another who specializes in the task to do so for him, following the standard procedure of delegating rights to an agent. This cost, of course, would be the liability of the criminal (although he is bound to pay only necessary, not actual, costs). But what if the criminal resists? Would such private enforcement not lead to constant violence?

Restitution without war requires some form of nonviolent arbitration. For such arbitration to be effective, both parties must be willing to abide by its decision, for or against them. In our society, this is done by brute force: resist the government, and you tend to get the worst end of it. In a society without a monopoly on force, no one would have the power to compel the submission of any other by direct force. So how could arbitration be made binding? This question, fortunately, was very well answered by the polyarchic institutions of pre-Feudal Europe: outlawry. Rather than attempt to overwhelm a resistor of the arbitrated resolution, publically proclaim his guilt. One who has violated the duties of the law has no claim on its protection, and others would be hesitant to deal with a noncompliant criminal. In a society in which the government does not compel people to interact with others, such ostracism would be perhaps the most severe punishment of all possible. Of course, forcible restitution is still just; however, it may not always be possible, and there outlawry has its role.

The efficacy of outlawry depends, of course, on the public acceptance of the ruling. In cases of commercial contracts, the standards are fairly clear, and thus I think such public enforcement quite probable: who would wish to do business with someone who reneged on a contract and then defied justice? For a business owner, the loss of business from a boycott of other companies would probably suffice as a deterrent (and did, in the non-coercive merchant courts of the middle ages). But what of criminal law, where agreement on crimes and punishments is scarce? To analyze this problem, I think that we must alter our conception of law. In our statist age, law is a production of the state, an authoritative pronouncement of what is to be done. Clearly, no such law has a place in a society with no state. The production of law is fundamentally different in a free society: there is no lawgiver, but a law-finder, seeking to identify the relevant natural legal principle and then to justify it to others. If the lawgiver fails in this respect, the law fails to be enacted, for the law in such a society rests upon its popular acceptance for its enforcement. This was the nature of the common law: people today, I think, tend to analyze the common law in terms of our own institutions, with the judges replacing the legislature in creating a binding set of created regulations. In its prime, however, before the common law became subverted by the positive law of the state, it was not a positive law at all, but rather an application of the natural law to the case at hand. Precedent was not a binding regulation, but a guide helping the judge to find the proper application. Correspondingly, in the free society that I imagine the judges do not craft a code of law and force it upon the parties to the case; they attempt to apply the universally justifiable natural law, a law enforced not by violence, but by the conscience of all. This necessarily limits the scope of the law, but not beyond measure. Did the law not overlegislate, I suspect that disagreements would be far rarer.

But what of criminals who cannot pay their liabilities? They would live in perpetual debt, ever bound for all they owned to their creditors. Bankruptcy has no place in a free society. But should they not have borne that in their considerations of whether to commit the crime? Some, however, object in the opposite direction, that restitutive law is unfair to the victims, for they are not guaranteed restitution. To this, first I must question how this can justify the punitive sentences advocated by its advancers: if it is unjust to the victim to be payed only in correspondence to the criminal’s ability to pay, is it any more just to deny the victim all satisfaction save the pleasure he derives from the sufferings of his offender? Are we such a race of sadists that we enjoy the sufferings of others more than the albeit partial satisfaction of our own losses? But I do not think that such satisfaction need be partial. We have a very good microcosm of the form of law I discuss here in our present institutions regarding automobile accidents. There, a complex set of insurances and liabilities protect the victim against unrecompensed loss and the offender against payment beyond his means. Similarly, I believe that a system of insurance against loss and surety for liabilities would serve all necessary purposes. One could object that this will destroy the incentives against crime, if criminals gain the proceeds of their success while the burdens of their failures fall largely on their liability insurance. I must first note that for this objection to hold, automobile liability insurance and malpractice insurance are destructive of proper incentives and must be discouraged. But the Anglo-Saxons had an even better answer: instead of contracting with some impersonal insurance agency, their insurance was a group of twelve who pledged surety for each other’s liabilities. One would not enter such a contract unless one trusted the honesty of the others, and none but a monster (who would probably not be accepted into such a group anyway) would willfully exploit his friends in this manner. The Anglo-Saxons also solved the difficulty of ensuring that all had such surety by refusing to interact with those who lacked it, just as today the government (which we may take as here acting in its capacity as owner of the roads, rather than as sovereign) requires those who use the roads to have liability insurance.

And what of the poor? I hope that after this presentation that question naturally vanishes, but I fear otherwise. The poor have no worries in such a society. Victims may claim compensation for the costs of enforcement, and so one cannot be too poor to pursue justice. Favorable resolution is not certain, it is true; but if one could not bear that risk he could sell his right to the restitution to a firm, who would pursue the case then on their own behalf, guaranteeing the original victim the expected value of the award. The courts would have no incentive to rule against the poor, for the enforcement of a verdict depends on its legitimation, and so only in a society in which nearly all members of which systematically discriminate against the poor would such a biased verdict triumph. For the same reason, bribery is unlikely to be able to pervert justice; the decision is of no account in itself, but only its popular acceptance. And, lest I legitimize the nirvana fallacy, I must ask what comfort the poor have in our present society. The poor are at present wholly reliant upon the government condescending to pursue their case, which the government has shown all willingness to not do at its own pleasure. Once in court, the poor are subject to a legal code produced by a legislature highly responsive to the lobbies and donations of the wealthy. Furthermore, it is in the state that bribery comes into its own, for while in a free society the people must ratify the decision of the court, and the people are beyond bribery (save by an organization as widespread as the government), under the state the decision of the judge is itself decisive, and so bribery is of binding influence. If anything, it is not the poor but the rich who need fear the loss of the state, for it is the rich who wield disproportionate influence over the government, an influence destroyed when there is no government to subvert. The government is not an equalizer, but a lever: it magnifies whatever disparity already exists, by allowing those with considerable resources to control the disposition of resources taken from others.

Thus, I find no reason to expect that society cannot exist without aggression. Replace a coercive monopoly on force with its free use where just and crime will be discouraged, not encouraged. Replace the creators of the law with its discoverers; one would never dream of having a legislature legislate the laws of physics; why, then, have a legislature legislate the laws of morality? Replace the brute force of the law with the ostracization of the people, of no less danger to the criminal but a terror, not an aid, to the tyrant. This could not, it is true, do all that can the state. This society will never be hammered into the mold of the social engineer. It will never be conscripted into the war of the conqueror. It will never bow before the messianic tyrant. These failures I cannot avoid, for they are incompatible with freedom. But to those who think these failures virtues I commend justice without compromise.

1: I discuss coercion in an earlier \link{https://ambulatorysesquipedalian.wordpress.com/2009/03/09/freedom-and-coercion/}{post}. Most straightforwardly, force is an encouragement of another by negative incentives, and aggression is the unjust use of force.

2: By order I do not, of course, mean that society should be thought an organism that must be directed toward some unified end. Rather, an orderly society (as opposed to an organized society) is one in which people can pursue their own ends in consonance with the rights of others.

3: For the act of destruction cannot destroy the title to the property, since the aggressor has no power to dissolve the title. He must dissolve some title, however, since his action decreases the quantity of property and titles and property must remain in correspondence. It therefore follows that he must dissolve the title to his own property to the extent that he destroyed the property of the victim, which property then falls under the title of the victim. Restitution is not punishment, but defense.


Social Contract Theories of the State’s Justification

February 4, 2009

I have lately been arguing primarily over the expediency of the state, which is not, I think, where the decision among governmental systems is best made. Precise determination of the actual results of a system of governance is impossible, relying as it does on indeterminate human action, and even approximate prediction is rather difficult. By comparison, ethical determination is determinate, and easier. Consequently, I believe that we ought to compare systems first on account of their ethical rectitude.1

Here I work from the assumption that individuals have a right to their possessions and body, which implies that they also have a right to seek recompense for violations of their rights unless they alienate that right to another. Justifications of the state that deny this assumption I shall treat elsewhere.

The state I here define as an institution that maintains a coercive monopoly of compensatory justice (as opposed to a de facto monopoly arising from the unlikely event that all people turn to the same agency for protection). While many entities that meet this definition would not be considered just governments, I doubt that any would consider a state any institution that does not prohibit competition. In consequence of this definition being underspecified, I accept the burden of proving that no contractual theory can justify any states so defined. I might note in passing that nearly all states tax their citizens and most aggress against rights in many other ways; however, as social contract theory cannot justify any violation of rights, I shall consider only the minimal definition above.

In order to justify the state’s coercive monopoly in light of the above assumption, one must explain how the right transfers from the individual to the state. The recognized method of alienation of a right to another in free society is the contract; thus, all theories that I have encountered in defense of the state within a negative rights framework posit some sort of contract between the individual and the state whereby the individual alienates his right to compensatory justice to the state (the one seeming exception, IV below, does not actually accept individual rights, but as it calls itself a social contract theory and seems popular among American traditionalists who claim to recognize rights, I shall address it here).2 I shall thus consider the four theories I have encountered; if I have overlooked any that is differentiable from those following in more than name, please bring it to my attention.

I. Explicit social contract

Explicit social contract theory posits that documents such as the US Constitution constitute a contract between the people and the state, and thus that states are by contract the exclusive agents of the citizens. While such an explicit contract would justify a state, this theory cannot justify extant states for three reasons. The first is that many states generally considered legitimate have no such document (such as that of the United Kingdom). Thus, at best this theory could justify only a subset of even democratic states. The second problem is that no contract binds the descendents of the signatories.3 Consequently, for the Constitution to be binding on those not alive at its initial adoption by explicit social contract theory, they would need to somehow explicitly adopt it. Even if one believes that those who do not object to it accept it by implication (“silence is consent”), explicit social contract theory must hold that if I repudiate the state as my agent, my alienation of my rights to it ceases. Thirdly, explicit social contract theory fails to account for the fact that no Constitution has, to my knowledge, been adopted unanimously. Therefore, were the state justified by an explicit contract, it would not bind those who did not approve of its initial ratification; the state’s prohibition of their pursuit of compensatory justice by other means is unjust.

II. Majoritarian social contract

Majoritarian social contract theory attempts to solve this third problem by positing that the majority in a nation have a right to bind the minority. I would first note that this is incompatible with any theory of individual rights, except if one arbitrarily exempts certain rights from the domain of the majoritarian contract (thus positing a distinction between societal rights, at the whim of the majority, and personal rights): if the majority may justly violate the rights of the minority, can the minority be said to have any rights at all? Also, this is not actually a theory of contract, for where else is a contract binding on those not signatories? If two in a group of three decide to despoil the third, is this not robbery? Is it not also if the majority of those in a neighborhood do the same? Why, then, does a different rule apply to the nation? How does the decision of some part of the population to pursue justice in a certain manner compel me to do the same? The justification of democratic elements in a state rests on the legitimacy of the state as a whole; founding the legitimacy of the state on majoritarianism then begs the question unless one posits some principle that says that “the majority of those forming a ‘nation’, but not those forming a neighborhood, nor those in only incidental relationship, have a right to bind the minority to do the bidding of the majority.” And what proof will be raised of this notion, aside from its necessity in justifying the state? In ethical determinations, let us accept only self-evident principles and those derivable therefrom; I hardly see how majoritarianism is self-evident. Two men may no more be justly despoiled by the two than by the one; why should the principle change when the numbers rise to the millions? Finally, majoritarian social contract theory cannot justify any deviations from democracy, thus invalidating the US Constitution (for although it binds individuals, its ratification did not grant votes to the states in proportion to population), and it still cannot explain how those two centuries dead bind me today.

III. Implicit social contract

Implicit social contract theory, on the other hand, attempts to explain the first two problems with explicit social contract theory, the occasional lack of explicit founding documents and the absence of intergenerational binding, by positing that by residing in a nation one consents to its government. This, however, requires a belief that I find difficult to grant. One may make continuance upon his property subject to any conditions he might choose, but his neighbor has no right to do the same. If one should say to his neighbor that if that neighbor does not pay a certain sum per month he would extract it by force, unless the neighbor moves away, it would be robbery; the fact that the neighbor “consents” to the force by refusing to move makes no difference. Therefore, if the government should tell me that my continuance within its borders is conditional on my alienating my right to pursue justice on my own account to it, it is ultimately asserting that it, not I, holds the allodial title to my land, and I hold it as a tenant at its pleasure. How, I must ask, did it acquire this title? Not originally; one appropriates title to land by mixing it with one’s labour. When did the state stir itself to help the settlers who tamed the land? When they left, it forced them to purchase the land, to which it had contributed nothing; when they produced, it burdened them with taxes, taking from them what they earned without its aid; when they prospered, it burdened them with its regulatory fist, lest it be thought that prosperity outside the control of the state is possible. By what right, then, does the state claim the land? Perhaps it wishes to claim that it purchased most of the land from other nations. And when did those other countries acquire the ultimate right to land developed by others? How do the petty transactions of the tyrants place obligations upon me? Perhaps it wishes to claim that the allodial title was transferred at the ratification of the Constitution. But where does the Constitution say that those who consent to it sacrifice thereby the true ownership of their property? If that is the case, then our government is founded upon sheer fraud and theft. And what of those nations that have no defined beginning, no constitution? How do the actions of the warlords of centuries past bind the English citizen of today?4 Furthermore, I again raise the point that not all consented to the Constitution. How does one’s rejection of a contract bind one to its terms? One could, of course, add to implicit social contract theory the argument of majoritarian theory, that the majority, in their consent, rightfully despoiled the objecting minority. But need I say anything in reply? The government claims to be under the laws. What law permits the two to despoil the one? Furthermore, all varieties of implicit social contract prove too much. If my residence in the US justifies its government’s power over me, then surely residence in a tyranny justifies the actions of its government. Who has so little heart as to tell the starving, oppressed peasant that he invites his hardship upon himself by his continued residence? But one might say that his master compels his residence, while our state does not. But where can I go, to be free of the state? Everywhere I turn the oligarchs have claimed sovereignty. What refuge offers me an actual alternative? Choice implies no consent if all the options are unjust. Can the thief justly claim that because his victim freely chose to part with his money rather than his life he parted with his money voluntarily, and thus that the thief’s action was not unjust?

IV. Nonconsensual social contract

This is not really a theory of social contract, for a contract achieves nothing without consent. Glossing utilitarianism with the terminology of freedom does not justify the transaction. However, I shall address this theory here, in accordance with its self-proclaimed identification. The theory is that the state is a necessary evil, for rights will be violated whatever happens; a state that prevents violations of rights greater than those that it causes is justified.5 It ought to immediately strike the reader that, while phrased in the language of rights, this theory is in fact about no such thing. If I have a right to something it means not that other people must promote it (the liberal’s error), but respect it. A system of negative rights makes me responsible for the harm one does to others, but not done by others. Therefore, if one wrongs one man to help another, the wrongs for which he is responsible increase, while the reduction is in wrongs for which he is not responsible. For this theory to work, it must deny individual rights, and instead proclaim broad societal goals for which all are responsible. It then becomes nonsensical for anyone to claim his individual right to the proceeds of his labor, or to his life itself, for all is subsumed by the societal interest. But let me leave aside that argument, for I neither wish nor need to rest on the assumption of individual rights here. This justification rests on a calculation impossible in both practice and theory, for at what ratio may the state exchange life for property, or vice versa? How much may it steal from its citizens, if it should show a life saved at the end? How many may it kill to prevent a theft? Individuals may make decisions were no exchange ratio exists, for they may subjectively weigh two states of the world and choose the one which they prefer, but the state’s justification must be objective, not subjective, and thus he who wishes to justify the state on such utilitarian grounds must identify and justify his equations. Furthermore, since no such equations have been proposed, how can we claim any state as legitimate by this theory? It serves at best as a hypothetical theory that might justify some future state, but which can do nothing at present. Furthermore, theft by the US government exceeds theft by its citizens by a ratio of 150:1. Even if the demise of the government increased private theft one hundredfold, theft would diminish by one third! The expediency of the present US government is far from obvious. Finally, why is this provision, like that of majoritarianism, restricted to the state? Why is the thief who steals to feed the starving culpable, but the state not? Why do the actions of millions follow different rules than those of individuals? Furthermore, let us note that the state prohibits other means of obtaining justice. When has a monopoly ever been found to provide more of its product, and of a better quality? Yet the state establishes such a monopoly. Can it be claimed that the establishment of a monopoly on the protection of rights better protects them?

V. Generalization

I may generalize my observations: If individuals have a right to pursue justice on their own behalf, then that right, by its very definition, be taken by another without the consent of the individual. Thus, a social contract theory is only tenable insofar as it is also a private contract theory, in which each individual chooses for himself whether and to whom he may alienate his rights.6 Even if all men at some time decided to alienate their rights to a certain agency, creating a de facto monopoly, they would not be justified in preventing the creation of a new agency, or in forcing a newcomer to join the old.7 Thus, by simply positing that a contract that alienates one’s right to pursue compensatory justice to some agency must follow the same standards as any other contract, we arrive at anarcho-capitalism, with free choice of security agencies. I am a contractarian, and for that reason I find myself compelled to by an anarchist.

1 I would then apply the consistency principle and say that what is right cannot be inexpedient, although acceptance of this principle is unnecessary for acceptance of the primacy of ethics. More specifically, the consistency principle tells us that the practical and ethical determinations are both solutions to the same problem, and that, as an intuitive rule of thought, we should use the simplest approach (exempting some pedantic purpose). Actually, however, my argument is even stronger for someone who accepts the primacy of ethics but rejects the consistency principle, because then the solutions need not align and a determination of expediency is neither necessary nor sufficient (nor even relevant) for determining the proper course of action.

2 Strictly speaking, the contract would not be between the individual and the state because the state is formed by the contract, and therefore its existence is subsequent to the contract and it cannot be a signatory to it (unless one wishes to posit a powerless state predecessing the contract and then being granted its powers by the contract, but that seems counterintuitive). Thus, strictly, the contract should be among the citizens alone. However, few of these theories make sense viewed that way, for while a contract with one party being a group not all of whom consent to the contract may be plausible to some, I cannot see how a valid contract to which one signatory does not assent is plausible in the least.

3 Note that although debts may be claimed from estates, they may not be claimed from the possessions of the heirs.

4 I must here note that feudalism is legitimate (those who hold any true social contract theory cannot consistently claim any form of government lawfully contracted to be unjust); however, the feudal owners of the land in times past acquired the land over which they claimed dominion by theft, and thus they were not true owners of the property, and their nominal feudalism was invalid.

5 Alternatively, one may add the qualification that the government must minimize violations of rights to the extent possible without compromising its protections of rights, but it makes little difference. Can any right justify the slightest wrong?

6 Therein lies the distinction between the inability of choice among nations to justify the state and the ability of choice among protection agencies to justify the market: only in the latter case is there an option of abstention. No man has a right to purchase any product, but all men have a right to refrain.

7 Some might object that in this case the agency would probably not permit the split. I must agree (although I think the presence of such a de facto monopoly agency even less probable). However, even if this does occur, then we have again a coercive monopoly over the provision of justice–a state. If the possibility that anarchy would give rise to a state is the strongest argument against anarchy, then surely the certainty of a state would be worse?


Anarchy and National Defense

January 28, 2009

One of the most pressing difficulties for stateless government would seem to be national defense. While police protection can be well internalized, being primarily a service to individuals, businesses, or neighborhoods, defense against foreign enemies yields non-rival and non-excludable benefits to all, and thus would seemingly encounter a severe public-goods problem. But, in associating national defense with a military, I believe that we may be equivocating. If the nation can be made secure without the need for a military, there is no defense problem with anarchy.

I can see two reasons why one nation might invade another: preemption of threat, and ambition for land or resources. The first reason, preemption,1 need concern us little. Preemption is, by nature, against a threat; a nation that does not threaten others need not fear preemptive action against itself. If a nation has too weak an organized military to defend itself, it cannot have enough to pose a threat to another, and need not fear preemption; if it has a strong military, then concerns about its military weakness are unfounded. Therefore, in no case is defense against preemption a unique concern for an anarchal nation.

Thus, we are left with defense against territorial expansion. In this case, the aggressing nation does so with expectation of benefit; an expected cost greater than the expected benefit would suffice to deter the threat, even if it could not avert suffering if the attack were made.1 Furthermore, even conventional national defense does not prevent harms; consider England during WWII. Thus, all increases in the cost of a successful invasion equally serve national defense.

In considering this, I believe that Machiavelli’s argument from Ch. IV of The Prince is relevant: “[H]e who considers both of these states will recognize great difficulties in seizing the state of the Turk, but, once it is conquered, great ease in holding it…. But it is impossible to hold with such tranquillity states constituted like that of France. Hence arose those frequent rebellions against the Romans in Spain, France, and Greece, owing to the many principalities there were in these states, of which, as long as the memory of them endured, the Romans always held an insecure possession;” Although a decentralized state may not erect such a hard outer defense, and thus may be easier to defeat in pitched battle, it leaves no centralized mechanism with which to seize control of the country. Look at the Vichy government of France during WWII: once the military fell, the country on the whole (neglecting isolated private resistance, which would be if anything greater were occupied nation originally anarchist) served the purposes of the conquerors in subduing the country. If a decentralized nation is difficult to govern, how much more one with no institutions of government, with its people accustomed to freedom?

Iraq, too, presents a good example. Hussein’s regime should be the model of those who look to government for national defense: a centralized state lacking democratic hindrances to its warmaking and with a high military budget.2 Yet each time the United States invaded, the demoralized military of Iraq crumbled. Notably, the last time, when we sought to gain control of the government (rather than mere military defeat), a private resistance arose which we have not yet quelled, despite the support of Iraq’s government and much of the population. How much more problematic would be an invasion of a nation with no legitimacy and no domestic support on the side of the conquerors? Thus, it seems to me that far more effective at deterring invasion than a conventional military would be the assurance that an invader would have to suppress the population man by man, without support from the local state. A privately funded military is, I admit, difficult to conceive; but we must remember that a military is but a scarcely sufficient and wholly unnecessary means of achieving national defense, which could be as well or better achieved by other means under anarchy.

Thus, I think that national defense under anarchy would not consist of multi-billion dollar jets and a vast military-industrial complex, but rather the free ownership of weapons and the reluctance of free men to submit to tyrants. Even a committed minority of the population could make invasion prohibitively costly. Such a defense would be far less costly, with respect to both resources and rights. Gone would be the annual 650 billion dollar drain on our nation’s resources. Gone would be the ever-present excuse for violations of our rights that “wartime necessity” demands them. And, of course, if a group of people thought that an aircraft carrier would be a good thing to have, they would be free to fund one–but with their own money, and not, as at present, their neighbors’.

1 Exactly the same justification as for imprisonment of criminals: imprisonment does not seek to alleviate the original wrong, but seeks to alter the costs considered by the prospective criminal in order that he might not commit the crime. That imprisonment does not prevent the crime from occurring if it does occur need not influence our practical analysis of its effectiveness (although from a consideration of justice, I think that imprisonment and such defense as I describe are wholly incommensurate).

2 National defense being considerably more difficult in a democracy or under Constitutional government, why do not those who raise the objection to anarchy also raise it against limited government as a whole?