The Book of Masters and Slaves
July 5, 2010 § 1 Comment
I am bemused by the number of people I meet who have never heard of Friedrich Hayek, leave alone read his best known book, ‘The Road to Serfdom’. Mind you, Hayek was no common or garden variety of university academic. He has under his belt, one of the highest civilian honors of the United States – the Presidential Medal of Honor, as well as the 1974 Nobel Prize for Economics. The Queen of England invited him to tea, and the Pope consulted him on matters of importance. Margaret Thatcher carried his books around in her purse. Milton Friedman went as far as to say that Hayek “undoubtedly influenced the climate of opinion that ultimately brought about the collapse of the Soviet Union“. And as for Ronald Reagan, he even listed Hayek as among the two or three people who most influenced his philosophy. I decided that this man deserves to be resurrected, if only to throw light on that most arcane of subjects: Ronald Reagan’s philosophy.
Having read the book, I will say this: The Road to Serfdom is a very annoying read. This is a devious, insidious annoyance I am talking about, like an unscratchable itch, difficult to pin down on a single thing and yet…there. Let me see if blogging aloud can help figure out exactly what irks me about this book.
Hayek’s main beef in The Road to Serfdom is with totalitarianism and central economic planning – and on the face of it, he has a point. Having seen what the Indian Planning Commissions managed to fail to achieve for their people over the second half of the 20th century, I do not need to be convinced of the inefficacy of the mechanism, but at the time Hayek wrote the book (1941-43), Stalinism, Fascism and Nazism rubbed shoulders with liberal democracy as viable models for the modern state, and the Fabian Socialists were clamoring shrilly for more state control and socialism in Britain as well. Hayek, in order to repudiate them, attempts to show that state control and central planning led directly to totalitarianism, and that Britain was best served by sticking to her liberal democratic, capitalist and individualist traditions. Totalitarianism corrupts those in power, he explains patiently, and they spread falsehood and propaganda in a bid to perpetuate their power. The people are coerced and cajoled into obeying the arbitrary whims of an overlord, rather than following their own judgment. That, to Hayek, is the end of choice, the demise of individualism and thus the death of freedom.
A fervent democrat myself, I agree with Hayek’s observations on dictatorship, but methinks the professor doth overstate the case against planning a tiny bit too much, once again from the Indian experience, where the Five Year Plans have led, not to totalitarianism, but merely to total irrelevance and public ridicule of the planning process.
We of the 21st century, we who know so much more, we hold these facts to be self-evident: that all men may be equal in some systems, but that the poor do not have an awful lot of choice or freedom under any system. Everywhere, the poor are manipulated and influenced, either by brute force and bayonet, or by the more subtle methods of pricing and taxation, advertising and demagoguery. We know too, that relative inequality is a fact of life, and while we can argue about where to draw the line, there are large parts of the world where the poverty is absolute and beyond debate; where the business of daily survival trumps any attempt to improve one’s lot. And we know this too: that on average, the rich are better at making (and holding on to) money than the poor; it follows, therefore, that over time, left to themselves, the gap between them will only grow wider. Any attempt to reduce the gap, other than voluntary philanthropy, is a restriction on the freedom of the rich to do what they are good at, to do what they want, to grow even richer. And this, I strongly suspect, is precisely the freedom whose loss Hayek is ultimately concerned about.
In fairness, Hayek knows this, too. He acknowledges that adequate protection against the worst privations is a necessary pre-requisite to libertarianism (which he calls ‘liberalism’ – isn’t it wonderful how the word changed in meaning within a single generation?), and he writes only for the people of Western Europe and America, who have already been able to guarantee their people this level of security. In fact, he rebukes British socialists thus:
If the English proletarian is entitled to an equal share of the income now derived from England’s capital resources, and of control of their use, because they are the result of exploitation, so on the same principle all the Indians would be entitled not only to the income from but also to the use of a proportional share of the British capital. But what socialists seriously contemplate the equal division of existing capital resources among the people of the world?
Do not ask too loudly for what you feel you are owed, says Hayek to the British factory workers, because others worse off than you may hear, and ask us both for what we owe them. It is in all our interests that we let sleeping dogs lie, and enjoy what we have. Which is a sane enough piece of advice, if you disregard the needs of the people at the very end of that exploitation food chain.
And so, ultimately, Hayek’s problem with socialism appears to be built upon this fear, this unspeakable horror, that the poor and exploited at the bottom of the heap in Asia and Africa, should come knocking on the doors of the civilized rich one day, seeking their pound of flesh hoarsely and insistently like so many invading body-snatchers. His suggestion to form a loose federation involving the nations of Western Europe and the United States (as opposed to a Federated Union of the entire world) appears to point to the same end.
Am I reading too much here? Am I being unreasonably vituperative against a man whose main thesis is, after all, merely the utter unsuitability of totalitarianism, and of socialism only because it leads to totalitarianism? Maybe so. However, I find disturbing references on the internet (try this or this, or this for instance) to Hayek’s excellent relationship in the 1970’s with General Augusto Pinochet, the libertarian dictator who ruled Chile with an iron hand after deposing the democratically elected, but radically socialist Salvador Allende. When asked to comment, Hayek is reputed to have declared a personal preference for a ‘liberal’ dictatorship over socialist democracy, insisting that personal freedom in Chile was actually higher under the dictator than under the earlier democratic government. In short, totalitarianism and serfdom are fine, as long as they aren’t socialist in nature, or perhaps, as long as the serfdom was someone else’s.
In even shorter, Hayek held views about Chileans that were the exact opposite of what he tries to convey to the British in The Road to Serfdom. Which makes either Hayek’s book, or Hayek’s life, a monstrous lie and a waste of time.
“The people dwelling in this beautiful half of the Western Hemisphere appear stubbornly determined to tear out each other’s entrails; nothing can divert them from such an end…When i turn to consider them in this state, alternating between misery and crime, i am tempted to think that despotism would be a blessing for them. But these two words will never be linked in my mind. “
Hayek, by a long stretch the lesser of the two men, succumbs easily to this temptation. As long as the wealth of his race and class is not threatened, he has no problems with the enslavement of the rest of humanity – in fact, he recommends it. The moment his interests and those of his aristocratic class are brought into focus, he waxes eloquent about freedom and democracy.
I now know why this book makes me so mad.