Posts Tagged ‘Rutger Bregman’
Rutger Bregman’s Reith lectures, an amateur commentary: lectures 3 & 4
In his third lecture, Bregman brings up the Fabian movement in Britain, whose most well-known members today were G B Shaw and H G Wells. It was named after a famous Roman statesman and military commander, Fabius (full name Quintus Fabius Maximus Verrucosus), whose delaying tactics against Hannibal of Carthage strengthened Rome at a time of crisis. So the Fabians favoured gradual, piecemeal tactics to improve society – reform as opposed to revolution. Here’s Bregman’s opening remarks:
It begins with a tax system that is fair, simple, and based on the principle that work and wealth should play by the same rules.
Bregman’s issue here is definitely my own. Money made from money (Trump is a classic example, but there are many many others) is more ‘protected’ from the tax system than money made by work. So, Bregman asks, what do we do to encourage, if not enforce, a fairer tax system and a sense of social justice? I for one, would want to bring to the attention of the super-wealthy that their wealth isn’t as ‘deserved’ as they like to think it is – but what a task that would be!
The Fabians emerged from and split off from a broader, Quaker-inspired movement of moral reform in the late 19th century, feeling that political reform was the vital issue, and that this reform needed to be gradual and rational, bringing the majority of the people with it, if possible. Unsurprisingly, the movement held great appeal for many of the intellectuals of the day. They produced essays in pamphlet form, focussing on brevity and conciseness, with elegant packaging, and which invited those interested to attend conferences and debates on relevant issues. The movement became fashionable, in effect. It turned economics into a near-popular topic and was a major force in the formation of the British Labour Party. The movement spawned a very radical tax system, which reached such proportions that, in the 1960s, bands such as the Beatles and the Stones complained about being impoverished. Poor things! Unfortunately, since those days, the rich have had it much easier to retain and increase their wealth, as a range of schemes and tactics have emerged to protect private capital, including whole companies created to do just that.
Anyway, this Fabian movement managed to become ‘cool’, and increasingly successful into the 20th century. Education and healthcare were a major focus, as well as limits to working hours and extra pay for overtime. Women’s rights became an issue, as did the progressive taxation system that George Harrison maundered on about – until he found a tax haven, no doubt. In fact, it was into the 1970s that things began to change, and Bregman blames it on the neo-liberal movement, which began around the 50s and included some well-known names, particularly Friedrich Hayek and Milton Friedman. This was of course about a minimal state and maximal markets – the rule of self-interest.
So, when the 70s brought increased unemployment, a drop in economic growth and an inflationary surge, the neo-liberal strategies of small governments and big, untethered markets began to sound enticing. It became the centrist approach for a time, gaining acceptance not only from conservatives such as Thatcher and Reagan, but also from supposedly centre-left figures such as Clinton and Blair. But over time – and Bregman is surely right on this – the price was a widening rich-poor gap, a reduced sense of community, an untameable capitalist class, ecological problems and the like. He claims that neoliberalism is dead, and we are searching for, in need of, new ideas and approaches, a ‘conspiracy of decency’.
So, towards the end of this third lecture Bregman claims that this conspiracy is at hand. I’m not sure that I agree, but he might be talking about something like a universal basic income, which I’ve written about before:
Imagine a state that embraces this role fully, where the brightest minds don’t waste their time polishing power points at McKinsey, but build high-speed rail, or cure entire classes of disease. Imagine the massive profits from AI, technology rooted in decades of government-funded research, flowing into a national wealth fund that paid every citizen a monthly dividend.
Yes, all this is nice to imagine, and we may well be working towards a world of greater leisure, but the forces of greed and empowerment over others don’t seem to be reducing….
So to Bregman’s final lecture, which he calls ‘fighting for humanity in the age of the machine’. He began, rather startlingly for me, with the free will issue, which I’ve come to terms with, mostly in the last decade or so, through reading, first Sam Harris, but particularly Robert Sapolsky’s massive work Behave, and its follow-up, Determined. Yet unlike Bregman, accepting our deterministic world hasn’t particularly traumatised me – probably because those works simply confirmed me in my ‘suspicions’, which were much more than suspicions.
I was a little startled, too, to learn that after a traumatic ‘loss of Christian faith’ period, Bregman found a hero worth worshipping in Bertrand Russell, that first Reith Lecturer, and a towering figure in philosophy and ethics, whose writings I’ve always enjoyed but have read too little of – time to correct that…. ah, time, time. Interestingly, he too experienced youthful crises – life-threatening ones, it seems – regarding free will and religious faith. These were issues that troubled my own youth, though they were certainly not existential crises.
Bregman quotes the simplest observation/advice from Russell, ‘love is wise, hatred is foolish’. This, of course, goes with the ‘no free will’ view. Understanding that people are what they are due to all sorts of determining factors may not enable you to love them, but it certainly makes it feel foolish to hate them, and I’ve often, in recent times, checked myself with this commonplace insight.
When Russell presented his Reith lectures in 1948, the world had been convulsed by two massive wars and was facing the spectre of possible nuclear annihilation. We’ve gotten used to living with this possibility after many decades, in which nuclear arsenals have expanded, but have never since been called upon. According to Bregman, though, we’re now facing another threat, a rather more amorphous one, in the rapid development of AI. Who knows where that will lead us, how much a benefit, how much a threat?
When, next, Bregman speaks of the five questions posed by religion, my mind drifts to the five essential questions formulated by Kant which I learned years ago. Or maybe they were four.
- Who/What am I?
- What do/can I know?
- What should I do?
- What can I hope for?
These questions, with some slight variants, seem existentially fundamental. And Bregman’s answers, or my takeaway from them, are fairly vital to me.
Who are we? The planet’s greatest co-operators. That, after all, is how we created AI, and nuclear weapons, and vaccines, and nations and governments and education systems and science and civilisations. Of course, with the growth of complexity came the development of hierarchies. And yet… I’ve read in the past that with the development of agriculture came fixed hierarchies, ownership of property and so on, but I doubt it was that straightforward. Hierarchies exist in chimp and bonobo societies, which we can observe directly, but the hierarchies of the earliest humans and their direct ancestors don’t leave traces. It’s likely that farming, and what we call ‘civilisation’, consolidated those hierarchies, sometimes to a socially destructive extent, as Joseph Henrich argues in The WEIRDest people in the world. Above all, this civilisation has had a massive impact on the planet itself, altering its atmosphere, wiping out many other species, and reducing its ‘size’, from our perspective, from that of our whole world, to a tiny speck in a galaxy that is itself a tiny speck in the universe as we know it.
And now, AI. This might be part of the fifth question to add to the four I gave above, but it’s definitely a ‘we’ question. Where are we going? Is AI the end of the road, the last of our inventions? Here’s Bregman’s summary of the bad news:
Literacy and numeracy rates are plummeting, teenage depression, anxiety and suicide attempts and anxiety are rising, face-to-face socialising is collapsing, as we retreat indoors, eyes glued to the screens, and solitude is becoming the hallmark of our age
This isn’t just opinion. The statistics provide confirmation. And this has happened before the rise of AI, which can hardly be expected to improve the situation. The online platforms tend to reward extreme views rather than ‘bland’ centrists ones, and Bregman quotes from a study in Nature:
Those with both high psychopathy and low cognitive ability are most actively involved in online political engagement.
This of course gives a skewed view of what the majority, who quickly grow tired of engaging with extremists and their violent reactions, are thinking. And when the most rational people start to give up, real danger ensues.
On this problem, Bregman tries something surprising, to me at least. The temperance movement was a reaction to the widespread abuse of alcohol – and its encouragement by profiteers – in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. And the loudest voices against this abuse belonged to women, many of the same women who demanded the vote. It shouldn’t be difficult to understand why. Alcoholism was largely, though certainly not entirely, a male problem, leading to violence, abuse and family neglect.
Today the addiction is to computer games and other internet distractions, and with AI become normalised on top of this trend, the outcome is hard to predict, and even harder to be optimistic about. AI, as Bregman says, is a ‘supercharging’ technology, but we barely know what that means, and how it will affect current lifestyles. Current polls reveal a growing pessimism about the technological future.
But of course Bregman ends on a positive note, or tries to. What matters, he says, is not what people believe, but what they do. As the spectre of AI descends upon us, people need to act to protect the common interest, the human interest, which as we know is also the interests of the vast web of life from which we have sprung. AI is not, of course, like climate change, or alcoholism, it raises different questions which we need to be alert to, such as ownership, power, inclusivity versus exclusivity, and a close monitoring of effects. The common good is, of course, paramount. This is a difficult task – as Kierkegaard cleverly said, and which Bregman reminds us of – ‘Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards’. And this applies not only to our own lives, but our collective cultural lives. We must be alert to the mistakes we will inevitably make, and correct them as quickly as possible, to minimise damage. The future is ours to create, so we must be careful, and wise, and in the most important sense, loving.
Reference
super-punishment in the usa, and other dismal stuff
ok this graph is from just over a decade ago, but things haven’t changed much
I’ve written, I think, that I’ve decided to give the USA a rest, after the latest federal election there, for the sake of my sanity if nothing else. And I have to say I feel better for having made that decision. I live far from that country after all, and nothing much that happens there is going to affect me directly. But one of the books I’m currently reading, Humankind: a hopeful history, by Rutger Bregman, a ridiculously young Dutch author (writing as a quintessentially ageless old man) and, I would say, sociologist, has prompted me to reflect on the issue of crime and punishment, not just from a US perspective, but from the starting point of the ‘broken windows’ thesis that originated in that broken country.
Put most simply, the broken windows concept suggests that if you don’t do something about a broken window in a building, pretty soon you’ll get more of them until the building’s a right mess. That’s to say, you need to bring the original breaker to justice, even if it was accidental. And here’s the Wikipedia definition:
In criminology, the broken windows theory states that visible signs of crime, antisocial behavior and civil disorder create an urban environment that encourages further crime and disorder, including serious crimes. The theory suggests that policing methods that target minor crimes, such as vandalism, loitering, public drinking and fare evasion, help to create an atmosphere of order and lawfulness.
The first thing to note about this ‘theory’ is that it would obviously appeal to micro-managing types and blame merchants everywhere. It would encourage the police to harass loiterers and ‘suspicious-looking characters’ wherever they find them, and has even created a system where the police are given brownie points for numbers of arrests. And surprise, surprise, the theory was developed in the US, with its private prisons, high incarceration rates, death penalties and super-long prison sentences – and Bregman effectively counters the crime policies based on this theory with the approach in Scandinavian and other European countries, with their much lower crime and incarceration rates.
One obvious point to be made is that a broken window isn’t a crime, ipso facto, and it could have any one of a multiplicity of causes, as could a crime. So to look at these matters from a punitive perspective, right off the bat, might just be counter-productive. I won’t go into the ‘no free will’ argument again here, but to look at people’s circumstances from a more humane perspective would be of assistance, to put it mildly. When you come across a rabid, vicious dog who seems prevented from tearing your throat out only by a strong mesh fence, it seems reasonable to assume that she wasn’t brought up in a happy, playful, loving environment among other pets and humans. And you wouldn’t expect that dog’s behaviour to be improved by spending the rest of her days in solitary confinement in a black hole.
But of course the broken windows approach isn’t about improving that dog’s behaviour, or that of a ‘criminal’. It’s about improving the environment by removing these nasties from it. And the more ‘improved’ you want your environment to be, the more rules you will need to create, the more violations you will have to find, to make it so. That might just require more trained and toughened people to enforce the rules. A police state, no less.
Okay, so the USA is a diverse country and it would be unwise to generalise. Nevertheless, let me make some general points. The USA has the lowest minimum wage of any developed country, while Australia, where I live, has one of the highest (it’s true that individual US states can offer higher wages, but many of them don’t). It also has the highest per capita incarceration rate of any democratic nation, by a long way. Could these two factoids be connected?
There are also other negative indices. The USA has, by far, the highest wealth inequality of any OECD country. It has the highest rate of executions of any democracy. It is also the only country in the OECD that doesn’t have universal healthcare, though its average expenditure on healthcare is higher that that of other OECD countries – with poorer outcomes. That’s according to The Commonwealth Fund, which, in its 2023 analysis, referenced below, made these points:
- The U.S. has the lowest life expectancy at birth, the highest death rates for avoidable or treatable conditions, the highest maternal and infant mortality, and among the highest suicide rates.
- The U.S. has the highest rate of people with multiple chronic conditions and an obesity rate nearly twice the OECD average.
- Americans see physicians less often than people in most other countries and have among the lowest rate of practicing physicians and hospital beds per 1,000 population.
Much of this has to do, I suspect, with the USA’s championing of ‘the individual’. Spin-offs of that ideology include extreme selfishness, which helps explain the rich-poor divide, an ‘I can do whatever I want’ mentality, which helps explain obesity, and ‘I alone can fix it’ thinking, which results in not seeking medical help, with lack of demand leading to lack of supply.
And it seems to me that most United Staters don’t recognise these problems, I think largely due to insularity and jingoism. To give a personal anecdote about the jingoism, I used to leave comments on some US political videos, and I had a a thought of referring to the people of the US as ‘United Staters’, because it occurred to me, reasonably enough, that ‘America’ referred to a double continent and surrounding islands, with a population of over a billion. It was Wikipedia, in fact, that suggested United Staters as a perhaps more accurate term of reference. But on my first (and, I think only) comment using the term, I was hit by a response so abusive that it was very soon wiped, presumably by site monitors. Other times, in commenting on some scientific issue, I would receive a response laden with US jingoism, which had nothing to do with the issue at hand. Surely nobody of any other nationality does this! It’s quite creepy.
Anyway, returning to the USA’s adoption of the ‘broken windows’ paradigm, there has been blow-back, and some states are recognising the effectiveness of very different approaches, particularly in Europe. In Humankind, a revelatory work about the power of positive community, Bregman describes a couple of prisons in Norway, maximum-security Halden, and Bastoy, an island-based facility, and it’s worth quoting:
The inmates of Halden prison each have a room of their own. With underfloor heating. A flatscreen TV. A private bathroom. There are kitchens where the inmates can cook, with porcelain plates and stainless steel knives. Halden also has a library, a climbing wall and a fully equipped music studio, where the inmates can record their own records. Albums are issued under their own label, called – no joke – Criminal Records. To date, three of the inmates have been contestants on Norwegian Idol, and the first musical is in the works.
On the island [of Bastoy, a ‘softer prison’], there’s all kinds of things to do. There’s a cinema, a tanning bed, and two ski slopes. Several of the inmates got together and formed a group called the Bastoy Blues Band, which actually scored a spot opening for legendary Texas rockers ZZ Top. The island also has a church, a grocery store and a library.
Rutger Bregman, Human kind, pp 328-9
The island prisoners do engage in community work, ploughing and planting, chopping wood and making furniture, using such lethal tools as chainsaws. The prison guards, a high proportion of whom are women, are trained in ‘dynamic security’, designed to prepare inmates for a return to the ‘normal life’ that the prison itself seeks to emulate. The effectiveness of such a system is proven by Norway’s recidivism rate, the lowest in the world. ‘In the US, 60% of inmates are back in the slammer after two years, compared to 20% in Norway [and 16% in Bastoy]’, writes Bregman.
Wikipedia cites the World Prison Brief’s incarceration data, which tells us that the USA’s per capita incarceration rate is ten times that of Norway – and three times that of Australia (where the incarceration rate has long been a matter of concern).
So why does the USA, which so indefatigably touts itself as the world’s greatest democracy, and then some, have such a shocking record in this field? It seems to be connected to its obsession with individualism, and associated praise and blame. ‘Self-made’ individuals are idolised, while the ‘left behind’ are blamed for their plight. No doubt that’s overly simplistic, but it contains more than a grain of truth, methinks. Thankfully there are smart United Staters, such as Robert Sapolsky and Sam Harris, who have exposed the mythology of free will for what it is, for those willing to listen.
So let me end this post on a slightly more upbeat note. Bregman, always looking for silver linings, describes the impact of a visit to those Norwegian prisons by North Dakota’s top prison officials in 2015. North Dakota is a conservative, sparsely populated state with an incarceration rate many times greater than that of Norway. The state’s head of the Department of Corrections was brought to tears by the experience, and came to the stark realisation that the broken windows strategy was fatally flawed, and that ‘the implementation of humanity’ was key. Since then, prison officials from six other US states have visited Norway – and things are beginning to change (that’s as of 2020, when Bregman’s book was published). It’s a small beginning, but figures on incarceration rates, dating to as recently as 2024, make it clear that implementing humanity within the USA’s legal and correctional system has a long way to go.
References
Rutger Bregman, Humankind: a hopeful history, 2020
Global Inequality
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_incarceration_rate