Libertarian Fictions

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A drawing of a jester in a pointy hat. His body is a book and he is holding a book.
Because the world does not obey their ideology, libertarians prefer to send us to fictional places where their ideas actually work.

Libertarians love making stuff up. I don’t mean the counterfactual stories they tell when you point out some wonderful thing the government has supplied such as the eradication of smallpox, aka World’s Greatest Killer. Facts like that are always met with the response, “Well, a free market would have eradicated smallpox better, stronger, faster.” These fact-free assertions probably make them feel better, but I doubt anyone save the libertarian tribe takes them seriously. As Naomi Oreskes and Erik Conway argue, the libertarian free market existed “precisely never. There has never been a time in human history when markets met these conditions, and there is no reason to think that such conditions could ever exist” (p. 418). Nor am I discussing the truly dangerous fiction they peddle to the world, such as the “Great Barrington Declaration” on the Covid pandemic or the fantasy of climate-change denialism, largely fueled by libertarians and their fossil-fuel-burning patrons. Or the “right” to poison themselves with raw milk. Thank goodness we took care of smallpox before the libertarian propaganda machine got going. “The solution is not vaccines but herd immunity!” “Um, actually, there is no proof that smallpox ever killed anyone!” or “It is my right to get a highly contagious disease with a 35% mortality rate! My body is my property!” No, my subject here is the actual make-believe world at the heart of libertarian ideology. If allowed to create a world in line with their politics, what would that world look like?”

Galt’s Gulch

A gulch in Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado
An actual gulch in Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. I’m sure no one would notice if it suddenly went missing.

Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged (1957) is for those who think the problems of the world owe to the fact that people aren’t selfish enough and things would be better off if the good people just retreated to Galt’s Gulch and let a few billion people die as a result. These billions are “parasites” and, although Rand does not tell us directly, obviously must include the disabled and children. In Rand’s tale, those looters deserve to die.

Rand’s heroes are Übermenschen who retreat to a mysterious “Galt’s Gulch” hidden in the Colorado mountains and create a capitalist utopia. How does it remain hidden in a state where the federal government owns about a third of the real estate? Rand never explains this problem. In this place, these fierce individualists, beholden to no one but themselves, must take an “Galt’s Oath” named after cult leader founder John Galt to never give anything to anyone. What happens if someone, asserting their individuality does not take the oath? Rand never tells us. True individualism, it turns out is not thinking for yourself but acting and thinking exactly like Rand Galt does. You may want to feed your children and expect nothing in return, but that is a violation of the Galt’s Prime Directive so you should charge them or let them starve. If you choose to give them food, you aren’t an individualist. In Rand’s account, Galt’s Gulch is almost entirely populated by men. We can assume that the rugged individualist man returning home after working ruggedly individualistically is presented a bill by his ruggedly individualistic wife for doing laundry and vacuuming. I assume that she only prepared dinner for herself, and if he wants to eat, that will cost him.

What happens if a parasitic looter enters the gulch? Well, that’s impossible, you see because Galt created a mysterious shield that made the Gulch invisible. Does he give this protection to all inhabitants in violation of his oath? Rand never notes how he is paid for it, nor does she explain what would happen to a free-rider who doesn’t pay Galt yet obviously remains protected from the looters. There is no police force to enforce the (unwritten?) contract between Galt and the inhabitants.

In this capitalistic paradise, there are mineral mines and industrial production. What happens to the pollution caused by these enterprises? Rand is silent on this. Are children allowed (or required) to pay their way by working in a mine with no safety standards? Rand doesn’t say. Colorado has a semi-arid climate and the politics of water use are intense. Rand does not mention of where the water for all this comes from. Even a parasitic looter who works for the State of Colorado would notice the missing water. However, Rand just fiats away any real-world problems and hopes that no one notices them.

Despite her claims that her system is realistic and rational, Rand’s utopia is rife with contradictions and waves away any true problems of the world, “Rand’s utopia is not only inconsistent in description but simply not plausible in reality. Her idealized version of society is flawed in terms of sociological and economic and political laws and rests on a distorted view of human psychology” (p. 258)

Gumption Island

Largely forgotten today, Felix Morley (1894-1982) was a giant of the post-World War II libertarian movement. He won a Pulitzer for his editorial writing at the Washington Post, criticizing Roosevelt and the New Deal. After World War II, Morley wrote regular columns for Nation’s Business and Barron’s Weekly, co-founded the conservative newspaper Human Events, and enjoyed regular broadcast gigs on radio and television:

Morley was also on the advisory board of Spiritual Mobilization, a libertarian organization that promoted free-market ideas to the clergy, and he was a founding member of the Mont Pererin Society. The libertarian Volker Fund awarded Morley the William Volker Distinguished Service Award in 1961.

In 1956, Morley published Gumption Island, a novel he described as a “political fantasy,” in which Gibson Island, where Morley made his home was transformed into a libertarian utopial. Morley wanted to use his novel to both explain his ideal political order and to to explore race relations, “Knowing this island and its people, both white and black, I have long speculated how they would react, individually and collectively, if thrown into a ‘state of nature” (Morley to J.H. Gipson, March 19, 1954, Box 33 in Morley Papers, Hoover Presidential Library). Much more than his non-fiction, Gumption Island reveals the racism underneath Morley’s political thought.

In the novel, the Soviets drop a “Q-bomb” which sends a small island of homeowners back to the age of the dinosaurs and they must create a livable political order. There are two notable aspects of Morley’s politics, as revealed in the book that bear mentioning.

First, Jews controlled money and banking on the island. Albert Adler, one of the island’s few Jews, argued that money had to be fixed to the gold standard to prevent the manipulation of currency by government. He argued,’ For good historical reasons, every intelligent Jew understands the significance of gold. As a matter of fact, between ourselves, I’m wearing a beltful of double eagles at this minute. I’ve never travelled anywhere without them, since 1932. It’s funny to think that now I’ve carried these five hundred gold dollars back fifty million years” (92).  Finally, Adler lends the community his gold with the guarantee that there will be no manipulation of the gold reserve and that he and another person will be in complete control of the bank and have the sole power to appoint their own successors. Later in the novel, a motion is made to force the bank to pay the profits of the bank to the island’s Director of Finance. Adler blocks the move by telling the islanders, “If that motion is carried…I may feel it necessary to withdraw the gold reserve, which is not an asset of the bank, but a personal loan of my private property.” Morley thus recreates the stereotype of the money-grubbing Jew, the sole control of the economy.

Second, Morley wrote all African-American characters in a minstrel show dialect, even though by the 1950s such a dialect was increasingly recognized as reflecting an ugly racist stereotype. White immigrant characters, such as the Polish immigrant who connived with the Soviets to set the Q-bomb, as well as a Russian pilot who had been thrown into the past with the Gumption Island residents, were presented as speaking unaccented English. While listening to the white islanders discussing Plato, Bill Jefferson, portrayed as a leader in the African-American community, thinks to himself, “I guess…that Ah jes’ ain’t intellectualy competent. With all this yak-yak, they’s clean forgot Ah’s supposed to pick up a load o’ wood fo’ the hospital.” After he returned to the African-American community and reported what he had seen and heard in the white home, they agreed not to participate in governing the island. As one character put it, “I guess we got to leave it to the white folks to give the orders…so long as they treat us decent.” In Morley’s libertarian social order, African Americans happily give up any political power because they realize their own incapacity to govern.

In the 1950s libertarians imagined their utopias as places where pollution didn’t exist, where children were “free” to work or starve, and where “individualism” meant surrendering your free choice to act altruistically. A place where the Jewish racial trait of hoarding gold allowed them to control the economy, and African Americans were happy in their servitude. You and I might call such places nightmares, but libertarians call them paradise.

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Adventure Capitalism: Exit, Stage Right

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Book Cover for Adventure Capitalism: A History of Libertarian Exit, from the Era of Decolinization to the Digital Age

I love a good heist story. You know the ones, our heroes are planning a seemingly impossible task. They are the good guys, forced to operate outside the law for unjust reasons. The team is always composed of specialists: you have the getaway driver, you have the cat burgler, you have the muscle, you have the confidence grifter, you might have someone working on the inside, feeding them inside information. Nowadays, you also have the hacker who can break inside any computer system. They are all the best of the best, and despite their tremendous odds, they emerge victorious at the end of the tale. One of my favorite shows was Leverage (and its continuation, Leverage: Redemption) which told such a story every week. It was all rip-roaring good fun.

One of the showrunners for Leverage was John Rogers who has a very successful career in show biz, and is the author of this famous quotation:

Here are two novels that can change a bookish fourteen-year old’s life: The Lord of the Rings and Atlas Shrugged. One is a childish fantasy that often engenders a lifelong obsession with its unbelievable heroes, leading to an emotionally stunted, socially crippled adulthood, unable to deal with the real world. The other, of course, involves orcs.

This brings us to the amazing book, Raymond B. Craib‘s Adventure Capitalism,which is like a heist story. Except for the heist crew being hyper-competent adventurers, the crew is the Three Stooges entranced by Ayn Rand. Instead of pretending to hurt each other, Larry, Moe, and Curly hurt other people. But, like the Stooges, Craib’s crew utterly failed in what they attempted.

The center of Adventure Capitalism is Michael Oliver, a Lithuanian Jew who was the only member of his family to survive the Holocaust and came to the United States. Like many refugee Jews of his generation, Oliver was attuned to the dangers of totalitarian governance. Unlike most of his cohort, he did nothing to ensure “it can’t happen here,” Oliver chose a different path. Oliver was “worried that his adopted country in the 1960s teetered on the brink of totalitarianism. He thus saw exit as the most viable way to survive and thrive, and he spent much of the decade of the 1970s traversing the globe in the hopes of establishing a new country.” Oliver and company’s attempts to create a libertarian paradise. During the early 1970s, Oliver et al. attempted to dredge an island in the Southern Pacific region. The attempt was quickly terminated by Tonga, who understood the reef upon which the “island” was to be erected as their own. A second effort, aided by well-armed mercenaries, failed in the Abaco region of Bahamas. Yet a third, this time in what is now Vanuatu, failed again, despite backing from libertarians such as John Hospers and the US Libertarian party and buckets of Oliver’s money. Such efforts continue today under the leadership of folks such as Milton Friedman’s grandson in the seasteading movement. Craib relates this with extensive archival research and a storyteller’s knack for writing page-turning prose.

For me, Adventure Capitalism underscores the moral bankruptcy of libertarian exiteers. Randian libertarians, Craib argues, “seem indifferent to the general public and express disdain for democratic politics.” Community action, voting, organizing, advocating, and efforts to improve society, none of which were for Oliver; rather, he adopted Brave Sir Robin’s strategy of “Run Away! Run Away! Craib gives no indication that Oliver was concerned about those he left behind in the United States being crushed by the hobnailed boot of totalitarianism. Craib notes that Oliver’s effort to establish a libertarian paradise was a “moral experiment.” Oliver’s moral message was clear: The proper response to the rise of totalitarianism, such as that in Germany in the 1920s, was to have enough money to abandon those fighting against the Nazis to the concentration camps. Present-day libertarians think that “what happened to Oliver’s family during World War II” means that any “Quests to evade such ends are worth respectful consideration.” In my mind, this shows the immorality at the heart of libertarianism: better to “evade” Nazi governance than to prevent Nazi governance. What about those who lack the resources to exit? “Let the looters die” seems to be the libertarian answer. Reaching this conclusion seems inevitable after any “respectful consideration” of libertarian exit strategies.

Since Oliver failed in his attempts to create his utopia, we are left to wonder what life in such a place would be like. Other than vague promises about “freedom” libertarian exiteers are very vague about life in these supposed utopias. Rand never let us lesser beings inside Galt’s Gulch for example. Atlas Shrugged is, of course, fiction. For a better fictional account of such a libertarian society, I highly recommend Naomi Kritzer‘s Liberty’s Daughter. Read it in conjunction with Quinn Slobodian‘s Crack-Up Capitalism: Market Radicals and the Dream of a World Without Democracy to get more information about these capitalist “paradises” than you’ll ever get from the libertarian exiteers.

Craib details indigenous understandings of land, ownership, and kinship that cannot be reduced to the Lockean understanding of “property rights” that libertarians claim to be universal. The human experience is richer than that, and in, as Craig’s subtitle has it, the “era of decolonization’ the formerly colonized were boldy asserting their alternative understanding of humanity’s relationship to the planet. Part of the problem the exiteers face is that their idea of unoccupied land just waiting for them to “mix their labor” with to make it their own private property has always been a lie. People are living on it. Those people have their own ideas about their relationship with land, which might not match those of libertarians. Hence, Oliver’s need to hire mercenary soldiers to create his private society based on the “non-aggression” principle of libertarians. That anyone finds the libertarian exiteers moral actors seems beyond belief to me. Go read Adventure Capitalism to see their moral bankruptcy.

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