Do genes matter? The hereditarian left wants you to act as if they do

The ‘hereditarian left’ is having a moment. I first wrote about this - still largely hypothetical - political tendency two-and-a-half years ago in the aftermath of the Sam Harris-Ezra Klein affair. That blog remains to this day one of the most viewed items on my page, largely I think because so few writers employ the terminology. That appears set to change, somewhat, with the publication of - and largely positive critical reaction to - “The Genetic Lottery: Why DNA matters for social equality” by Dr Paige Harden. Harden was on the side of the angels during the Sam Harris affair but as a fascinating profile in the New Yorker makes clear, she wants her new book to persuade those on the left ‘who insist that genes don’t matter’ of the error of their ways. As the New Yorker accurately notes,

“Harden is not alone . . . Last year, Fredrik deBoer published “The Cult of Smart,” which argues that the education-reform movement has been trammeled by its willful ignorance of genetic variation. Views associated with the “hereditarian left” have also been articulated by the psychiatrist and essayist Scott Alexander and the philosopher Peter Singer. Singer told me, of Harden, “Her ethical arguments are ones that I have held for quite a long time. If you ignore these things that contribute to inequality, or pretend they don’t exist, you make it more difficult to achieve the kind of society that you value.” [Emphasis added]

Indeed, both DeBoer and Pinker have separately been crowing at the positive reception Harden’s latest has received. From the outset, I want to be clear that I’ve not yet read The Genetic Lottery, or DeBoer’s Cult of Smart for that matter. So this is not a book review. But I am familiar with both their work - I’ve cited Harden in the past - and despite his talents as a writer I’ve criticised DeBoer over his insistence that genetic variability in humans provides “the strongest possible argument for socialism”. I have no particular axe to grind with Harden and I trust, on the basis of other reviews I’ve read, that her new book is fair-minded summary of the science written by a world-renowned expert in the field and leavened with some standard social democratic politics. What I do take issue with is with the framing of the New Yorker piece - and Harden’s and DeBoer’s general thesis - that progressives need to be convinced that ‘genes matter’ and alter their political programs accordingly. But as we shall see, the real question is: what does it mean for something to ‘matter’?

Put simply, the argument of the handful of writers who make up the ‘hereditarian left’ is not dissimilar from that of the sex essentialists and evopsych gurus who argue for misogyny or against trans rights, or the ‘race realists’ of the like of Charles Murray and his many acolytes, or much of the heterodox thinking of the IDW [I’m not claiming they’re morally equivalent, just similarly fallacious]. All of these social movements and groups - containing an overrepresentation of aggrieved or wannabe scientists - argue passionately and at length that some observable trait (‘x’) in humans exists (or ‘is real’, or ‘matters’), which therefore [waves hands] justifies their [often reactionary] politics. When the left says we don’t care whether trait x is real, or that trait x ‘doesn’t matter’ to our politics, our lack of interest is caricatured with some snarl word like ‘blank slatists’ (Pinker’s idiotic term), science denialists or ‘cognitive creationists’. Whereas what’s actually happening is that the supposed heterodox thinkers are committing the most basic of errors - that of deriving an ‘ought’ from an ‘is’ - of trying to justify and legitimise their preferred policy positions on the basis of supposed natural facts.

Genes influence behaviour, obviously, but whether that ‘matters’ depends on your frame of reference

The intransitive verb ‘to matter’ is one of those English words that sounds significant but whose meaning is vague and imprecise. Dictionaries tell us its a synonym for ‘important’, or something we care about. If x is some trait or observation, then x ‘matters’ or is relevant only if there is some relationship or function f(x) that produces a desirable goal or output. However, the essence of political disagreement is that humans rarely agree on what goals are ‘good’ or desirable, and whether the methods used to get there are legitimate. In other words, two people can only agree to normative (‘should’) statements when they implicitly or explicitly share the same objectives. For example, we can agree you should exercise but if and only if we first agree that fitness or health is our common goal.

I’ve written before that perhaps the single largest philosophical challenge of contemporary liberalism is the ‘problem of inequality’. To paraphrase Rousseau, man is born equal, but is everywhere unequal. Once liberal societies granted formal, legal equality to all citizens, the question became what degree of social, cultural and economic inequality could be tolerated before the narrative fiction that all human beings are alike in dignity could no longer be defended. The various liberal theodicies which have sprung up in response to this question give structure and context to the vast majority of contemporary political movements. On the progressive side - which includes both the anti-capitalist left and various types of left-liberals - our view is that when people are unequal we should change society somewhat to improve their conditions. Conservatives - including mainstream centre-right liberals and reactionaries - think that inequality is cool and normal, actually, and that we shouldn’t take any steps that would alter the status quo.

So yes, genes influence behaviour to some degree. Obviously. How we measure that influence, it’s mechanisms of action, and how it interacts with other sources of variability including socialisation, environment and pure dumb luck, are questions we can debate. But the influence is ‘real’, in the sense that it is observable, measurable, and falsifiable. In much the same way, sex traits and sexed differences are ‘real’ and group differences in behaviour are ‘real’ - but there is a difference between a fact being real (or provable) and a fact ‘mattering’. Your chromosomes and genitals simply don’t matter to the social performance of gender, for example. Your skin colour shouldn’t matter for your access to civil and political rights. Many observable human traits are simply irrelevant to both politics and political philosophy. A fact is only relevant if it changes how you pursue your goals – and progressives and conservatives have fundamentally different political goals. Which suggests that the same things may not matter in the same way to different people.

I’m just spitting science, bro

Harden was a graduate student and protégé of Eric Turkheimer, a behavioural geneticist whose views on this subject I respect immensely. In 1997, Turkheimer wrote an essay in which he argued that:

“A psychometric left would recognize that human ability, individual differences in human ability, measures of human ability, and genetic influences on human ability are all real but profoundly complex, too complex for the imposition of biogenetic or political schemata. It would assert that the most important difference between the races is racism, with its origins in the horrific institution of slavery only a very few generations ago. Opposition to determinism, reductionism and racism, in their extreme or moderate forms, need not depend on blanket rejection of undeniable if easily misinterpreted facts like heritability, or useful if easily misapplied tools like factor analysis. Indeed it had better not, because if it does the eventual victory of the psychometric right is assured.”

So he, too, I think would agree that progressive engagement with the science is important in order to rebut right-wing attempts to naturalise inequality - but the science cannot then form the basis of a just ‘political schemata’. So, a brief overview of the science of behavioural genetics - at least as I understand it from Turkheimer’s work - seems warranted. The origins of the field lie in so-called twin studies (DeBoer, I think fairly, calls these kinship studies as their basic unit of analysis is family relationships). If two siblings with a known degree of genetic relatedness (r) are raised, by circumstance, apart - and then their life outcomes are subsequently measured - it is in theory possible to calculate the effective contribution of genes vis-a-vis other facts such as upbringing, environment and random chance. Heritability, then, is an estimate of the contribution of biology to outcomes - in other words, if you had a large number of clones of an individual, to what degree their behaviour would vary as a result of non-genetic causes.

Twin studies are notoriously difficult to design - human lives are complex, and the potential confounding factors are many. More importantly, however, because of their limited number of available subjects twin studies tell you very little about the genetic variation within the broader population and next-to-nothing about genetic variation between populations. A twin study cannot tell you which genes are influencing outcomes or by what mechanism they are acting - only that biological similarity plays some role. The second stage of behavioural genetics - which took place largely in the 1990s and early 2000s - was premised on the idea that advances in scientific knowledge, in particular the completion of the Human Genome Project, would allow the identification of the ‘genes for’ particular traits. This turned out to be a disappointment. DNA is rarely so simple, and with the exception of some single-nucleotide polymorphisms (SNPs) associated with particular diseases, it turned out most genetic influence was pleiotropic - many genes influence many traits, through complex interactions and subtle influences that are often poorly understood. The challenge increases exponentially when we try to measure genetic influence over complex behaviours such as learning, sociability and sexuality.

Which brings us to the third and contemporary moment - that of the genome-wide association study (or ‘GWAS’). Readers may be vaguely familiar with the concept of factor analysis - which among other things is used in the psychological literature to generate measurement constructs such as g (for general intelligence). By combining the results of multiple tests (e.g. for language, spatial awareness, mathematical ability and problem solving), one can mathematically construct a single variable which best explains performance across multiple domains. A polygenic score is similar to this, but more complex by several orders of magnitude. Very sophisticated computer programs construct thousands or even millions of models combining the tiny influences of hundreds or even thousands of SNPs on an observed trait, settling on a model that offers the best statistical fit to the data. A polygenic score then sums up in a single variable the effect of all those genes - even if the specific identity of those genes or their mechanism of action remains unknown. Once again, these scores can produce quite good evidence of a genetic influence in diseases - the evidence, so far, for behavioural influence remains much weaker.

Turkheimer remains a vocal critic of the GWAS approach. Apart from the significant problem that a polygenic score is a statistical construct divorced from any investigation of the physical mechanism of action, the use of large data sets and machine learning to construct models means the field is doing something akin to ‘p-hacking’ - combing through data until an algorithm finds a result of statistical significance. The GWAS methodology is similar to the data mining approach used by many tech firms - the sort of analysis that predicts that consumers who wear red shoes on Thursdays are x% more likely to buy your product - and shares a similar problem in terms of model selection and validity. The most serious problem with polygenic scores, according to Turkheimer, is that the confidence intervals are rarely reported. A polygenic score may give you an estimate of the influence of your genes on, say, academic performance, but within a fairly wide band. So the predictive validity of a polygenic score for any given individual may be low - these are first and foremost population statistics. Large groups of people with particular scores may on average display the predicted traits, but the likelihood that any one individual will develop it is low. They are - like racial stereotypes or gender norms - poor predictors of individual behaviour and unsuitable for use in public policy formation.

As the New Yorker piece makes clear, Harden has moved away from her mentor’s scepticism in recent years - by all accounts, The Genetic Lottery is optimistic about the potential of the GWAS approach. There are hints in the piece at Harden’s evolving views - as a southerner with an evangelical background, a political ‘pragmatist’, and a successful white woman unaccustomed to receiving pushback from her left Harden is trying to identify the middle ground of these arguments. She highlights the importance of the genetic influence on behaviour while disavowing the dark policy prescriptions of the likes of Charles Murray and the race science crowd. But I - and most others on the left - would be sceptical that this is a line that can be walked, and definitely reject DeBoer’s thesis that it must be walked in order for the left to achieve its goals.

We just love debating tactics, don’t we?

The default progressive position is that we should remedy all social and economic inequalities regardless of cause. It’s not that genes don’t matter, is that no source of inequality matters. If your standard of living is below the poverty line we should fix that immediately without making moral or scientific inquiries as to why that circumstance has arisen. The real debate, if there is to be one, between the hereditarian left and other progressives is ultimately one of tactics (and oh boy, does the left love debating tactics!). To quote Harden from the New Yorker: “If you want to help people, you have to know what’s most effective, so you need the science.” In other words, is the left making our job of social reform harder by ignoring the science, as Peter Singer believes? Harden’s - and particular DeBoer’s - central contention is that in a realistic political environment, with limited space for progressives to pursue their priorities and the need to persuade others, the genetic influence on behaviour is a relevant source of inequality that should be factored into policy-making. Most socialists, for their part, argue that the dominant source of inequality is social structures and that until those social structures are changed, other interventions are likely to fail.

So DeBoer argues that education reforms have historically failed because they failed to take the genetic influence on cognition seriously. But perhaps a more parsimonious socialist critique would be that centrist plans that heavily focused on punishing teachers as part of an ideological project to undermine public schools were poorly conceived from the start. Until we begin to make serious structural changes to the allocation of resources in society, we simply cannot say that the material environment is not a significant factor shaping life outcomes for individuals. DeBoer and Harden would likely respond that kind of political and social revolution is impossible, and that the better political tactic would be to argue on the basis of luck-egalitarianism that the genetically disadvantaged are not to blame for their poor life outcomes, and that the state has a role to play in compensating for such undeserved inequality. Maybe, in the short term, they’re right. Luck egalitarianism is a respectable liberal philosophical position. But as the philosopher Elizabeth Anderson has written, any liberalism that is predicated on the unlucky demonstrating their inferiority in order to receive aid from their social superiors undermines the promise of equal dignity at the heart of the liberal system. And given the innate human concern for relative social status, we’ve repeatedly seen that subaltern groups know and despise when elites treat them with pity - which in turn gives succour to reactionary forces.

Not just tactics - strategy

One of the most important political lessons I’ve learned - from the comms specialist Anat Shenkar Osorio - is that tactically sound decisions can be counterproductive in the long-term if they cede the framing of an issue to the right. Even if the hereditarian left was offering tactically sound advice - that interventions based on genetic influence on behaviour were more effective and more persuasive in moving people to support them - it would be strategically unsound. Because conservatives simply do not care about remedying social and economic inequalities. So when the hereditarian left argues that genes matter, they inevitably provide significant succour and support to the right, who can say “Yes, we agree, genes do matter, because they mean that some degree of hierarchy and inequality is natural and inevitable.” Which tends to put an end to movements for social reform.

I strongly suspect that the reason so much of the literature on genes and behaviour is focused on intelligence and academic performance is to, in some sense, legitimise and justify the liberal meritocratic ideal. Academic and journalistic elites - such as Harden, Pinker and DeBoer - are products of an education system that has granted them access to outsized social standing and influence. As the French economist Thomas Piketty has described, the Brahmin left values educational competition because they see their own achievements in that field as legitimising their social position. But if universities are just printing degrees for middle- and upper-class children whose parents paid their way through adolescence, then the Brahmin left’s social position - and the liberal meritocracy they promote - is in some sense illegitimate. For Pinker and the classical [right] liberal IDW crowd in particular, if academic achievement is sorting on the basis of something ‘real’ and unchangeable (i.e. genes), then the meritocratic hierarchy - Jordan Peterson’s hierarchy of talent - is legitimate and defensible.

Conservatives are simply uninterested in changing the status quo to remedy inequality. Whatever Harden and DeBoer may think, the right are not looking to be persuaded on this point, or to persuade others to implement egalitarian social policies. What they are looking for is evidence that legitimises and naturalises inequality and hierarchy, which in turn makes their job of resisting change and persuading others to resist change easier. So when the ‘hereditarian left’ argue that seeking change to social structures won’t be effective in eliminating inequality, or that certain inequalities are fixed and unalterable, they are doing the right’s work for them. So politically speaking, the genetic influence on behaviour doesn’t matter for the left because, in the first instance, we probably can’t make use of it, and in the second, doing so would actively aid our ideological opponents. Plenty of leftists can be and are interested in the science - myself included - and relish the intellectual opportunity to debate its merits. But it simply has no bearing on our politics other than being able to argue against the genetic essentialists and race realists. And that’s where Harden, Singer, DeBoer and their fellow travelers are gravely wrong. The hereditarian left is a dangerous, dead end.

Reading Piketty's "Capital and Ideology" (Part 5): The Brahmin Left and the Nazbol Vortex

The fourth and final part of Piketty’s “Capital and Ideology” is intellectually rewarding and presents genuinely novel research and insight - even if at first blush it has little to do with either ‘capital’ or ‘ideology’. Piketty has assembled an impressive data set which correlates available information on class composition (namely income, wealth and education level) with voting behaviour in western democracies, in order to track the class composition of support for parties of the left and right over the last 70 or so years. In doing so, one of the world’s brightest commentators delivers genuine insight into the state of democracy around the world; he’s genuinely ahead of popular understanding of politics in these chapters - though again [and I’m speaking here to his editor], there are easily 100 pages of observations that could have been cut.

The Brahmin Left

Piketty thinks of class less in materialist terms than as a social position, defined by the totality of an individual’s relationships with others in society - their wealth, income, education level, occupation, age, sex, gender, religion and ethnic background etc. For much of the mid-20th century, Piketty writes, the political structure of Western societies was explicitly ‘classist’ - the left-right political cleavage mapped pretty well onto a social hierarchy defined by income, wealth and education, and these measures of economic privilege tended to run together such that high-income, highly-educated voted tended to vote for the right and lower-income, less-educated voted voted for parties of the left. Then, as now, wealth was the greatest predicator of right-wing political preferences, holding all other variables constant.

However, starting in the 1970s, this ‘classist’ political structure began to break down and, as of 2020, it’s effectively reversed. Slowly at first, but with ever-widening margins, highly-educated voters began moving to the parties of the electoral left (later in the UK than in the US or France) by margins of 10-15 per cent, which over time also meant that more high-income voters were also voting for centre-left parties. Indeed, in the last two US electoral cycles the average income of a Democrat was higher than that of a Republican voter. Piketty’s data demonstrates that this transformation of the class identity of left-wing parties is a long-term historical trend, visible in voting patterns across almost all European-style democracies, and it correlates, for Piketty, with the almost total abandonment by those parties of any support for economic redistribution. Interestingly, the prominence of Green political parties is strongly correlated with the rise of the Brahmin left - Green party voters [read also: ‘climate change’ voters] are overwhelmingly highly educated urban professionals.

The new leaders of left-wing political parties aren’t workers or union leaders; they’re lawyers, academics, teachers, public servants and workers in the NGO industrial-complex - the ‘Brahmin left’. Highly educated and employed in the knowledge sector, the brahmin left are primarily urban-dwelling cosmopolitans who share and enforce a strong set of liberal cultural values from a position of relative economic privilege. This transformation is the inevitable consequences of long-term trends, including the widespread access to tertiary education available to the children of social democracy and the mid-90s embrace of ‘knowledge economy’ and ‘opportunity’ framing by former social-democratic parties. The brahmin left owe their social status to their success at a certain kind of meritocratic intellectual competition, and their definition of justice is closely related to making sure that competition takes place on as fair a grounds as possible.

“The problem is that many who succeeded in this way developed smug and condescending attitudes towards the rest of the population; or, to put it charitably, they did not enquire too deeply into whether official meritocratic pronouncements corresponded to reality or not. Thus, the former workers’ party became the party of the winners of the educational system and gradually moved away from the disadvantaged classes. . .”

There are two causal explanations of the abandonment of the left by less-educated workers, depending on where the blame is placed. The first explanation, which Piketty favours, is that these newly minted-intellectuals gave up any pretension of fighting for economic redistribution that would benefit those left behind, abandoning the working classes and adopting policies that advantaged their own, middle-class children (partly out of self-interest, and partly because of the stultifying ideological climate after the end of the Cold War). The alternative hypothesis is that it was low-education voters who abandoned the left, not the other way around. They were simply too uncultured, too religious, too racist, and too reactionary to adapt to the newly globalised world and preferred to retreat into an imagined past than deal with a complex new world in which they would have to compete with workers who were black, immigrants or women - you might have heard this one before.

The strongest case for this second argument comes from the United States, where the Republican ‘Southern Strategy’ began peeling poor white voters away from the Democrats as early as the 1968 and 1972 elections and where racial identity remains a highly salient predictor of voting patterns to this day. But Piketty points out there is poor evidence of this occurring elsewhere - immigration and race were not highly salient electoral issues in Europe until relatively recently, when the “Brahmin Left” transformation was already well under way and largely complete. Moreover, the same transformation has happened consistently in countries with vastly different population structures and ethnic and religious cleavages. In other words, with enough data one sees there’s no correlation between eras of racial or xenophobic tension and the support of less-educated voters for left-wing parties.

I suspect that Piketty’s diagnosis of the ‘Brahmin Left’ is essentially correct. The divorce between left-wing intellectuals and their supposed working-class political base has cursed social democratic parties ever since Third Way turn of the 1990s and it’s clearer than ever in 2020 that mutual antipathy and resentment is driving the two sides further apart. In the absence of a robust pivot back towards redistributionist policies under socialist leadership [and Piketty offers hints in his data that under Jeremy Corbyn there were brief prospects for healing of the rift] the ‘Brahmin Left’ look to be an ongoing feature of our democratic politics going forward. What’s highly concerning for me is the explicitly ‘trifunctional’ or feudal structure of the new liberal elite - much like the former priestly caste, they are the primary creators and enforcers of moral and aesthetic rectitude, serving primarily to legitimise the status quo and discipline low-status workers. While some downwardly mobile brahmins might support more radical change [as many poor priests did during the Revolution], as a class the Brahmin left is almost totally dependent on the financial largesse of the capital-owning class for their material standard of living and social status, precluding their active support for meaningful social change.

Class collaborationism and the unification of the elites

And who are the brahmin left's partners in governance? Piketty counterposes them against what he terms the ‘merchant right’ - a group with similar life experience and social position, but who experience competition differently. “The Brahmin left values scholastic success, intellectual work and the acquisition of diplomas and knowledge [credentialism]; the merchant right emphasized professional motivation, a flair for business and negotiating skills. Each group invokes an ideology of merit and just inequality, but the type of effort expect is not exactly the same - not is their reward for that effort”. We all know the merchant right - they’re the type of person who understands that networking and subservience to authority provides a faster route up the corporate ladder than being the smartest kid in class. The ones who trade in their LLBs for soul-destroying jobs in corporate firms so they can retire at 40, rather than spending their lives writing papers no one reads about war crimes in sub-Saharan African for some generic NGO. People who take risks and start their own businesses, rather than acting as scribes and notaries for those that do.

In most modern democracies, electoral competition has in essence become a mechanism of sharing power between these two groups of elites - the brahmin left and the merchant right - who keep one another in check but largely share the mutual aim of preservation and extension of the status quo for as long as humanly possible. Both are, to quote Piketty, inherently conservative. “Both camps are strongly attached to the existing economic system and to globalization [sic] as it is currently organised, which ultimately serves the interest of both intellectual elites and economic and financial elites”. While in some countries the two sides [act as if] they’re at each other throats, elsewhere - notably France under Macron and most recently Italy under Draghi and UK Labour under Starmer - elites have developed new forms of class collaboration in which this ‘centre’ seeks to preserve and hold power against all others. While this ‘dual-elite’ system is powerful, Piketty warns us that it’s highly unstable and driving western democracy increasingly towards collapse.

In the eyes of both the ‘Brahmin Left’ and the “Merchant Right’, the working class are a backwards-looking cohort who are in impediment to efficient governance. The dismissal of non-elites in some respects represents a return to the ‘active vs passive’ citizenship debates of early liberalism and is an expression of the deeply anti-democratic values of modern neoliberalism. Piketty notes that many low-education voters simply don’t vote at all, and that this alienation and estrangement from politics means that the divorce of the left from the working class is much more severe than poll numbers suggest. This body of angry, dispossessed voters is not inherently reactionary or xenophobic, but is still out there, idle, waiting to be activated by any far-right demagogue or wannabe fascist with the basic commonsense to reach out to them. Piketty notes, and I agree, that centrists like Biden and Macron on some level want their opponents to be fascists. And the wannabe fascists, whether Orban, Le Pen, Trump or Bolsonaro - thrive on portraying their opponents are representatives of a unitary and unrepresentative cultural elite.

“[This] binary division is dangerous, because it casts nativist ideology with its potential for violence as the only possible alternative. The aim of such a rhetorical strategy is of course to keep the ‘progressives’ in power indefinitely. In reality, however, it runs the risk of hastening the success of the ‘nationalists’, especially if they are able to develop a social-nativist ideology - in other words, an ideology combining social and egalitarian objectives for the ‘native’ population with the violent exclusion of ‘nonnatives’.”

The Nazbol vortex

In my book, I refer to fascism as a sort of social cancer upon liberalism. Piketty refers to it as the ‘social-nativist’ trap - the potential for a successful ideological merger between in-group egalitarianism and out-group exclusion. In certain internet circles, the same phenomenon is called class co-option or the ‘nazbol vortex’. Whatever label we use, it’s clear that social fascism is an available solution to the social and economic weaknesses of late capitalism and the vast inequality it generates. The alternative - liberal but undemocratic elite rule - is recipe for social and economic paralysis, endless and escalating culture war and the delegitimisation of the entire liberal historical process.

While social-nativist parties have had enduring success in eastern Europe, Piketty points out that so far the nazbol vortex has not proved to be as bad as feared. In some countries (such as Japan, arguably the UK and I would add Australia) the existing conservative parties have managed to successfully co-opt nativist sentiment and create successful fusions between the merchant right and low-education voters. In India, according to Piketty’s data, the BJP remains an explicitly classist project of the Hindu elites against the lower orders despite ongoing efforts to co-opt lower-caste Hindus. And once in power, most wannabe fascists behave like traditional conservatives - both Trump and Bolsonaro largely failed to live up to their populist promises and focused largely on tax cuts and hand-outs for existing elites, which has likely dramatically shortened their respective time in power.

In other words, the real threat of ‘social nativism’ is year to appear - what we have instead is market-nativism, a more traditionally xenophobic form of conservativism that melds ‘strong external borders’ with a ruthless and highly inegalitarian domestic economy. In fact, I’d argue that this combination is potentially very ideologically potent from the perspective of liberalism’s meritocratic framing. Once foreigners and other ‘cheaters’ are expunged from the system, the ruthless competition of the market is able to accurately and fairly sort everyone to their just desserts. Of course, as we know from recent Australian political history, the primary purpose of such a narrative is to legitimise the continued exploitation of both foreign and domestic workers, and those contradictions cannot be resolved and will eventually be noticed.

Is there a risk of the nazbol vortex overtaking us on the left? It’s certainly non-zero. Piketty’s archetype of a social-nativist regime is, drumroll please . . . .the Democratic New Deal under FDR, under which white, male workers enjoyed the highest standards of living in the world at the same time as it reinforced patriarchy and literal racial apartheid. Some social-democratic parties, particularly in Europe, have in recent years given relatively free reign to nativist sentiments - not to mention the inevitable transphobia that accompanies it. r/stupidpol is [unfortunately] a thing, and the final defeat of Sandersism in the US seems to have broken the brains of many left-leaning social influencers with a strong attachment to the aesthetics of anti-elitism, including Matt Taibbi, Gleen Greenwald and Jimmy Dore. I like to think that the left’s own strong sense of self-identity and history - informed by our wide and deep pool of theory and commitment to ideological training - would forestall this kind of opportunist accomodationism, but it’s probably a battle we’ll be fighting as long as I’m alive.

In the final analysis, I share Piketty’s cynicism about the future of liberal democracy. The radical centrist blob is now a self-conscious project of elite collaboration, and there are increasing signs that those forces are willing and able to subborn popular participation in democracy in order to preserve propertarian liberalism for as long as possible. The emergence of the ‘brahmin left’ as a distinct social class is therefore inimical to the long-term success of any leftist project, and there’s certainly an element of truth to the idea that any successful left-populist project must find way to put such left-liberals in a decidedly subordinate political position. The values and aesthetics of the highly-educated urban elite cannot be allowed to become wholly representative of what it means to be progressive, because those values are at the present moment sympathetic to the economic and financial structures which impoverish the vast majority of workers, on the one hand, and which are driving our social and economic system into an ever-deepening spiral of crisis and chaos on the other.

Reading Piketty's "Capital and Ideology" (Part 4): The Great Transformation, or How to Destroy Capital in Three Easy Steps

Piketty’s earlier and more famous work, “Capital in the Twenty-First Century” shocked many readers by demonstrating that wealth and income inequality in the developed world in the early years of the 21st century was approaching the same levels as the Gilded Age. Rather than some unnatural and perverse state unique to late capitalism, Piketty used his unparalleled data to show the opposite - that the relative egalitarianism of the post-War era was, in historical terms, a fluke. The World Wars had led to destruction of capital on such a vast scale that post-War elites simply could not reconstitute their prior social roles. Most readers could be forgiven for coming away pessimistic that the only way to truly return to even a 1950s level of economic equality would be renewed destruction on an equally massive scale - perhaps in the form of “disaster socialism”.

Part Three of “Capital and Ideology” represents Piketty’s re-appraisal of this period. Is is true that egalitarian social democracy was the direct result of armed conflict? In short, no. The role played by the physical destruction of capital was ‘minimal’. The true cause was a series of political and social decisions, often taken under the circumstances of social emergency, which resulted in the novel and relatively fragile inequality regime Piketty terms ‘social democracy’. Whereas the top centile of the population owned between 55-70 per cent of all property in advanced Western nations in 1900, this number remained as low as 15-20 per cent as late as 1980 [it’s now back over 40 per cent in the United States]. Critically, changes in the distribution of wealth were almost entirely responsible for flattening the distribution of income - labour inequality did not change significantly over this period, but the ability to make an income from owning capital did. The importance of this ‘Great Transformation’ [Piketty uses Karl Polanyi’s phrase] cannot be overstated - including in how effective social democracy proved at generating sustained economic growth and productivity increases.

How to Destroy Capital in Three Easy Steps

Piketty provides an exemplary overview of the various mechanisms (destruction, expropriation, inflation) by which the accumulated surpluses of the Gilded Age were smashed to pieces. One could almost read this part of the book as a ‘how to’, if one were so inclined. As mentioned, while physical destruction of property was significant in France and Germany (representing perhaps a quarter and third of national wealth lost during the World Wars), only a tiny percentage of capital was physically bombed out of existence in the UK, US or elsewhere. Piketty instead located the source of capital’s decline in two broad sets of policies: first, expropriations and nationalisations - i.e. policies aimed at explicitly reducing the value of private property; and secondly, policies and decision that reduced the level of return on private capital, including inflation which reduced the value of existing assets.

While outright nationalisation and expropriation was rare in the developed West during peacetime (often tempered by the propertarian impulse to compensate existing owners), de-Nazification after the War often led to the seizure of vast fortunes, matched in the communist East by the large-scale collectivisation of the means of production. De-colonialisation also played a significant role, and Piketty, to my mind correctly, singles out the Suez Crisis as representing a decisive break with the gunboat diplomacy model of imperial debt enforcement which had previously extracted a heavy toll from colonial subjects for their attempts to take control of their own destiny. Agrarian land reform also played a large role in a few former colonial states. Given the scale of British and French national wealth held abroad - either in the colonies, the form of Russian or Eastern European debt, or in German or Italian factories - the War significantly constrained the power of exhausted European elites to call on Empire to enforce their ill-gotten property rights.

The War’s secondary affect was a massive increase in government debt, which states financed through borrowing the capital of their own citizens. It’s worth remembering here, as Piketty pointed us to in his first book, that states are relatively poor in comparison to the size of their economy - most wealth is held privately, not publicly. Indeed, Piketty points out that post-GFC government wealth in the US, UK and elsewhere has turned negative - private hands not only own the equivalent of 100% of national assets, but also have liens on future national production through ownership of government debt. When a government borrows money, it exchanges a promise of future repayment (which has value) for the ability to call on real assets. So long as the state does repay its debts, those promises preserve the social power of those that hold them. But states always have the option - whether by accident or design - of paying back its debts using goods and services less valuable than those accepted in exchange, in essence, causing inflation. Piketty notes that inflation averaged above 10 per cent after WW1 - a historically unprecedented occurrence after centuries of near-zero price movements. And in the immediate aftermath of the War, Paris and Berlin saw inflation of 40-50 per cent, effectively eliminating their war debt after a few years. Even in the US and UK - which averaged closer to three per cent- this modest level of inflation was sufficient to wipe out many multiples of national GDP in debt, finished off by the hyperinflationary bout in the 1970s.

Obviously, from a progressive perspective, debt and inflation are not desirable tools of public policy. Piketty notes that inflationary episodes suppress labour power, impoverish retirees and tend to produce generations of poverty. Inflation is regressive. He and I prefer a stronger solution - highly progressive taxes on capital holdings, combined where necessary with price controls and democratic control over the means of production. Piketty has a quote here, which seems in my mind should be kept in mind by proponents of so-called modern monetary theory, who would rather tinker with the money supply than do the hard political work of actually going against the interests of the powerful in society:

“Inflation is the sign of a society that is dealing with a serious distributive conflict: it wants to unburden itself of debts incurred in the past, but cannot openly debate how the required sacrifices should be apportioned and prefers to rely on the vagaries of rising prices and speculation. The obvious risk of doing so is that a widespread send of injustice will be created.”

Finally, Piketty acknowledges that it’s in principle possible to pay off national debt by running a long period of budgetary surplus and devoting a significant percentage of national revenue to the reimbursement in full of property owners. This was certainly the British strategy in the nineteenth century, and the austerian policy followed by most centre and right-of-centre governments to this day. Piketty argues that had the post-War European regime adopted such policies, the end result would have been that War debt was still being repaid as late as 2050, economic growth would have been lower and Golden Age levels of inequality a permanent social fixture, not just a twenty-first century phenomenon.

On Social Democracy

Piketty argues that the destruction of significant amounts of surplus value in the middle decades of the twentieth century was not necessarily intentional, but a result of an ideological transformation brought about by policy-makers dealing haphazardly with a series of financial, economic, social and military crises which had been ultimately caused by the previous propertarian regime. Chapter Eleven details the contours of ‘social democracy’ - the inequality regime that came to dominate most developed states in the second half of the twentieth century. It should be clear from Piketty’s framing that he does not have a serious ideological theory of social democracy as either a philosophy, or as an economic or political moment. Piketty does not seriously engage with the history and evolution of social-democratic movements, or reckon with their failures and transformations into neoliberal parties. Instead, he treats ‘social democracy; as short hand for a ‘set of social and fiscal policies that made societies not only more egalitarian but also more prosperous”. In this, he’s writing as much as post-War conservatism as he is about social democracy, and lazily embedding his historical narrative with a wistful longing for a post-War consensus that in all likelihood didn’t exist without the political and social pressure applied by the communist challenge from without and strong labour unions form within.

Piketty’s only major theoretical contribution in this section is an attempt to define the terms of the social democratic property regime. Whereas communist and socialist states are interested in the state- or democratic-control of the means of production respectively, Piketty argues (without any evidence) that social democracy is characterised by the ‘temporary’ nature of property ownership. In this, he is clearly importing and prefiguring his own conceptual model in order to justify higher and progressive levels of taxation. In this view, capital (unconsumed surplus) is passed down from generation-to-generation - one person can only ever be the temporary steward or guardian of capital wealth, and it should be recycled for other purposes through progressive taxation, most especially progressive taxes on inheritance.

Piketty’s history of social democracy is extremely dull and drags on for nearly a hundred pages. In all honesty, it represents some of the poorest scholarship and weakest writing in the entire book. Piketty bounces from topic to topic, introducing the banal left-of-centre ideas that he’ll pick up in Part Four - including the importance of access to education for achieving lasting equality, the need for taxes on private wealth and his obsession of transnational federalism. Piketty also hand waves at the typical ‘labour aristocracy’ and feminist critiques of mid-twentieth century social democracy - that the affluence of the Western proletariat was built on the back of the exploitation of third world, subaltern workers and women - without offering any sort of serious analysis.

Post-Communism, Neo-propertarianism and MMT

Piketty does the Cold War and post-Cold War periods an immense intellectual disservice. His Chapter on the communist experience runs through the standard liberal ‘dictatorship of prolertariat’, New Economic Policy, Stalin, gulags line - with some added ‘Venezuela!’ thrown in for good measure. Piketty has some useful statistics on China - noting, for example, that overall the public ownership of capital in modern China is closest to that in social-democratic Europe (although distributed very differently, with most land being privately owned but most large enterprises being controlled by the party-state). Those same statistics show that the gradual privatisation of wealth in China essentially ceased around the same time as the GFC - China has been in a steady state ever since (private wealth has grown, but public capital has grown just as much). But in discussing ‘deliberative democracy’ in the context of the Chinese Communist Party, he misses the obvious opportunity to make a comparison to the undemocratic features of neoliberalism in the West.

The remainder of this part of the book makes only two serious contributions. The first is an attempt to define ‘neo-propertarianism’ as a distinct inequality regime. He notes that the governing ideology of the modern developed world is not as explicitly anti-democratic as the canonical texts of neoliberalism/ordoliberalism or even classical liberalism might suggest, and that it remains committed to some degree of popular legitimacy and sovereignty (if anything, based on the idea of meritocratic competition). But, on the other hand, modern political leaders are so terrified of change - of opening Pandora’s Box - that economic management has become increasing opaque and non-transparent - as if hiding the scale of inequality will ameliorate its effects. There’s something of the scholar’s complaint in these pages - Piketty clearly wants more and better data. But there’s some truth to the idea - which one witnesses every day from nominally leftist social democratic parties of the world - that fear [informed by historical experiences of the 20th century] is the overriding motivation in modern governance. God forbid the voting public develops expectations that their governments can do better ($1400 cheques anyone?).

Finally, Piketty concludes by once again looking at the monetary policy and the role of central banks. The man clearly has little sympathy for MMT. Pointing out the historically unprecedented expansion of Central Bank balance sheets after the GFC (a phenomenon that COVID-19 has only accelerated), Piketty argues in familiar Keynesian terms that Central Banks - as executive agencies with powerful capabilities - have a role to play in managing serious crises. Central Bank balance sheets remain small compared to the overall size of the private economy, yet the seemingly unlimited expansion of QE has seemingly fueled bubbles in the prices of certain asset classes, while preventing the kind of ‘creative destruction’ that allowed unsustainable firms to fail. Monetary activism, in Piketty’s view, “attests to the many roadblocks government face in other policy areas such as financial regulation, taxes and budgets . . . [but] even though monetary policy is supposedly a technical matter beyond the understanding of ordinary citizens, the amounts involved are so huge that they have begun to alter perceptions of the economy”. MMT, for Piketty, is not a magic bullet, but a warning sign that something has gone seriously wrong with the ordinary mechanisms of political and economic management. A point on which I will of course agree.

Reading Piketty's "Capital and Ideology" (Part 3): Liberal Imperialism and the Globalisation of Inequality

When we left off at the end of Part One of Piketty’s “Capital and Ideology” (here), the feudal European inequality regime(s) had been substituted - either by reform or revolution - for a new ‘propertarian’ liberalism that in theory made property ownership a right open to to all in society, eliminating arbitrary social distinctions based on fixed social roles. Ignoring questions of how wealth and power was distributed in society was to provide the foundation for a stable, dynamic liberalism based on unchallengeable property rights. Part Two of the book juxtaposes this ideal with the reality of European slavery, colonialism and exploitation in the nineteenth century. As one chapter title puts it, this part of the book is concerned with the ‘globalisation of inequality’ - or in looking at inequality regimes from a non-European perspective.

Ostensibly, these chapters focus on slave societies, colonial governance and the Indian caste system. But as before, Piketty offers little new insight into the internal ideological justification of these regimes - students of slavery, for example, would be much better served by reading Sven Beckert’s work, which Piketty cites extensively. He’s more interested in the encounter between these systems and European propertarianism, and their transformation into more propertarian forms. In telling these rather scattered stories, one common theme that emerges is the centrality of the ‘political regime’ problem as a core question of ideology: identifying the boundaries of the political and economic community and defining its rules of membership.

A wretched hive of scum and villainy

Piketty makes a distinction between ‘societies that had slaves’ and ‘slave societies’, in which unfree human beings provided a significant percentage of the economically significant labour. The latter category includes Ancient Greece and Rome, but also the Caribbean sugar islands, the pre-Civil War United States and Brazil (not to mention the widespread enslavement of native peoples in settler-colonial societies). Notably, this means that a significant number of the most heavily slave-dependent human economies in history evolved during the nineteenth century under the authority of nominally liberal European regimes. Staggeringly, half of the total African population forced into chattel slavery in the Americas were enslaved after 1780, even as the European powers moved haltingly towards abolition.

The history of abolition, which consumes much of Piketty’s page count, is a depressingly familiar refrain as reformists and lawmakers focus almost exclusively on the compensation of slave owners - to “respect acquired rights, no matter what their origin”. The end result was a massive transfer of wealth to already-rich slaveowners, funded by public debt and ultimately - thanks to the regressive tax structures in place at the time - paid off by the working class. Particularly appalling was France’s treatment of its rebellious ex-colony of Haiti, which was still paying off its ‘debt’ to metropolitan France in 1947. Piketty emphasises that throughout this process, the formerly enslaved remained firmly outside the social contract in most propertarian societies, with debt and anti-vagrancy laws used to impose a level of labour discipline not all that more lenient than slavery itself. This emphasis on the moral use of debt as a tool of legitimising inequality resonates strongly with the work of the late David Graeber.

The story of exploitation in European colonial societies is ultimately not much better, though markedly more sophisticated. Generally, Piketty finds, the larger the European settler population, the less extreme the inequality - colonial elites, especially buearcrats and administrators brought in from the metropole and paid out of the taxes of locals, lived well but not as well as elites back home. Only in a small handful of societies where a settler minority came to dominate as local landowners (notably South Africa) did inequality reach levels seen in the slave colonies. While slavery was a racial caste system sometimes justified in patriarchal terms, from the ground-level colonial societies were the inverse: justified as ‘civilizing’ missions abroad, but often requiring the construction of elaborate racialised hierarchies.

Piketty demonstrates, using his incomparable data, that whatever their ostensible source of legitimacy, the primary purpose of late European colonialism was extractive and financial. At no point in European colonial history did the Empires transfer a significant amount of resources abroad to develop their colonies - administration was funded almost exclusively on the backs of locals. Access to raw materials - especially fuel and manufacturing inputs - was key. But financial dominance also played a large role. One-quarter to one-fifth of all capital in the UK and France in the late nineteenth century was held abroad - a staggering sum that generated capital profits equivalent to 5-8 per cent of total national income. This not only made wealthy citizens of the metropole wealthier, but funded an unprecedented level of consumption. The UK and, to a lesser extent, France, could run trade deficits to the rest of the world while still balancing their capital accounts - only the modern American empire comes close to this pattern of global hegemony. And this degree of financial extraction depended then as it does now largely on military occupation and economic coercion of developing states underwritten by the threat of violence.

A Digression on Inequality

For a theorist of inequality, Piketty devotes remarkable few pages, either in his first book or this one, to discussing inequality from a sociological or philosophical perspective. Endless volumes of data can be produced to demonstrate how bad inequality has become, but Piketty himself seems to struggle to explain why this is abnormal or undesirable. “Capital and Ideology” doesn’t tackle this question head-on either, but scattered around these middle pages of the book, like a few half-formed thought bubbles, there are hints that the author is struggling to put together his own thoughts on the matter. He notes, once again, that inequality of wealth and inequality of income are very different different: that the former is often an order of magnitude more extreme than the latter, but it is the latter which tends to generate social discontent and disorder. Piketty seems to flirt with the “Capital as Power” thesis (which I also personally endorse):

“Inequality of wealth is above all inequality of power in society, and in theory it has no limit, to the extent that the owner-established apparatus of repression or persuasion (as the case may be) is able to hold society together and perpetuate this equilibrium”.

Think of the current pandemic-induced crisis for just a moment. Real economic production is certainly hurting - most major economies have entered a deep Depression, jobs are disappearing and incomes are suppressed. Yet at the same time, the stock market is as high as it’s ever been, most major asset classes (including both secure investments like real estate and insecure ones like BitCoin) have increased in value and major corporations are enjoying the benefited of essentially unlimited free credit from banks. The value of all this capital cannot possibly be related to the real value of their assets, their productivity or their profitability. Instead, they represent the bare, naked manifestation of the relative power those who control those assets exercise or expect to exercise over the rest of society. The pandemic has seen an acknowledgement, in some countries more than others, that the institutions of the state serve first and foremost the interests of capital. And so the massively increased monetary [quantised] value of those assets is a call that the owning class will able to exercise essentially untrammeled social and economic authority in the neo-feudal technocratic dystopia that will most likely emerge after COVID-19.

Inequality of income is different because a certain share of annualised production must always be devoted to the maintenance and upkeep of the members of society - the labour share of income. Income inequality can only go so high [“maximal inequality”], otherwise the majority of a population would lack access to the resources they need to physically survive and reproduce (though this isn’t a fixed standard - i.e. ‘poverty line’ - and evolves over time with material expectations). Perversely, Piketty notes, this means that the wealthier a society becomes, the higher income inequality can rise. Once the elites no longer need to concern themselves with how the proles will clothe and feed themselves, they can choke off any further egalitarian measures and appropriate a larger share of income for themselves. This helps explains why many pre-capitalist societies appeared to maintain admirable levels of income equality for long periods, even when their social structures and the distribution of wealth within them are high inegalitarian. Depressingly, Piketty’s data suggests on the basis of historical comparisons that wealth inequality would need to be significantly higher (three to four times current levels) before the modern West entered pre-Revolutionary conditions.

War makes States and States Make War

The final chapter of this part of the book looks at modern history in a broader perspective and seeks to answer the “Great Divergence” question - why was it European societies that were in a position to impose this level of global inequality on everyone else? Although growing populations and the windfalls of the Colombian Interchange set the stage, even as late at 1700 the fiscal capacity of European states was not significantly different from those of either the Ottomon or Qing Empires. Most pre-modern societies collected far less than ten per cent of national revenue - for context the modern welfare state requires the the order of 40-50 per cent. Piketty notes that the jump to 10 per cent of national income - what he terms the state’s ‘fiscal pressure’ - was the key step that enabled the rise of Europe. But as to why Europe: he basically endorses a version of Charles Tilley’s “States Make War, Wars Makes States” argument - the fragmented nature of the European polity, combined with a general intensification of conflict after 1700, made increasing demands for military and fiscal capacity, that could only be met by extracting more surplus value from the population.

In turn, the high levels of public debt that these interstate wars often triggered were a catalysts for the development of sophisticated financial markets and a further intensification of extraction. Piketty charts at length how the Europeans used their military and financial sophistication to choke off the early seeds of manufacturing elsewhere - especially in India and China - through the combination of forcing open colonial markets and closing home markets (commonly called ‘mercantilism’). Finally, Piketty notes the immense ecological consequences of this modern of liberal imperialism - extraction of resources from the colonial world allowed a level of industrial intensification and production that far surpassed the natural carrying capacity of their homelands, laying the seeds of the ideology of limitless growth that was to come later.

Reading Piketty's "Capital and Ideology" (Part 2): The French Revolution and Propertarian Liberalism

In this second entry of my reading guide to Piketty’s “Capital and Ideology” (Part One is here), we’re going to take an in-depth look at the first section of the book, which focus on the transformation of Western European inequality regimes from what Piketty terms ‘ternary societies’ into the classical liberal ‘propertarianism’ of the nineteenth and early twentieth century. Overall, this is one of the weaker parts of the book, where the limits of Piketty’s historical method are on full display. Piketty’s data on nineteenth century inequality is certainly impressive, his insights meaningful, and when it comes to the history of France he knows his stuff. But grand histories of the transformation of European feudalism into modern capitalism are ubiquitous - we’ve all heard this story before and Piketty brings comparatively little new to the discussion.

Ternary Societies

Piketty’s starting point - his ‘inequality regime’ par excellence - is represented by the feudal structure of Christian Europe, at least as it it was understood by Medieval writers and theologians. In this model, society was divided into three classes - nobles, priests and peasants - who differed in political, economic and social rights but whose interests and roles were balanced against one another as part of a cohesive whole. Piketty wants to make the claim that this three-fold distinction is ‘oldest and most common’ type of inequality regime in the world, shared alike by nomadic tribes, pre-modern agricultural kingdoms, European and Indian feudalism, and elsewhere. This is, of course, grossly ahistorical and under-theorised. It makes little room for city states, militarised empires or bureaucratic regimes, and ignores much of the historical contingencies that played a role in the early construction of European feudalism. So as a category, ‘ternary societies’ may be illusory, but we may be able to make use of it as a somewhat idealised type.

Piketty asserts that all societies have the same needs - ‘meaning’ and ‘security’. In a ternary society, the nobility and clergy legitimise their unequal access to power and wealth through the institutional provision of these public goods in a way that is accepted as legitimate by the other two orders. What matters in a ternary society is that the property rights of the clergy and nobility went hand-in-hand with the quasi-government (‘regalian’) powers they need to exercise their social function of maintaining moral and physical security. In other words, as a serf or tenant farmer, your landlord not only extracted rents and taxes, but exercised judicial and political authority over you; in the same way, your social and family life was regulated by the clergy.

For Piketty, the three estates of pre-Revolutionary France are the archetypal orders of a ternary society, despite the fact that he pays careful attention to the ways in which European feudalism differed significantly from ternary societies on other continents. Celibacy among the Christian clergy largely prevented the establishment of a hereditary priest caste. And the Christian prohibition on cousin-marriage (which is addressed extensively in Jo Henrich’s new book, “The WEIRDEST People in the World”) and gradual embrace of primogeniture inheritance laws meant that the power of the nobility became increasingly concentrated in fewer and fewer hands. The practical upshot is that on the eve of the liberal Revolutions the first two estates were, in a cross-historical and and cross-cultural perspective, shockingly weak, with only 0.7% of the French population belonging to the clergy and 0.8% belonging to the nobility. Nevertheless, the former still owned 25% of France’s land and the latter owned as much as 50%. Clearly, the tension between the political and economic powers of this tiny elite could not longer be justified by their functional contribution to society and a rupture was inevitable. The question was was sort of society would emerge from the ashes?

The first liberalism - propertarianism

The most valuable, and most informed, tracts of this part of the book comes in Chapters 3 & 4, where Piketty deploys an in-depth and well-researched discussion of legislative changes made during the French Revolution to tell the story of how the liberal notion of property rights was first conceptualized and led to the creation of the first liberal inequality regime, which Piketty terms ‘propertarian-ism’. Piketty argues, rather convincingly, that rather than its popular pretensions to radical egalitarianism, the leaders of the Revolution were in fact from the outset involved the construction of a new ownership society in which every citizen of France had, in theory, equal rights to own property, but in which the distribution of that property was deemed a non-justiciable or non-political question. One still encounters elements of this propertarian ideology in modern capitalism, and this rights-based framework remains an essential underpinning of libertarian arguments against redistribution today. It is a conservative, even fatalistic recognition that the origins or all property rights lie in violent expropriation and injustice, but that to question such rights would unleash a uncertainty and disorder potentially worse that the inequalities of the status quo.

Piketty has an insightful quote at the beginning of this narrative, that’s worth citing at length for the way that it pre-figures the sorts of questions that transformative figures in every era of change have to asked themselves about the construction of a just society.

“On the night of August 5, 1789, the French National Assembly voted to abolish the privileges of the clergy and nobility. In the months, weeks and years that followed, the challenge was to establish the dividing line between the prerogatives that should simply be abolished and those that were legitimate and therefore worthy of perpetuation or compensation, perhaps requiring reformulation in a new political and legal language.”

In other words, the demise of one inequality regime does not imply, or even begin to suggest, the demise of the structural inequality that existed under that regime. Rather, the new regime must come up with new ways to justify inequalities that persist. There’s an analogy here with modern intersectional liberalism, I feel, which was done a good job of identifying injustice but has really struggled to explain the persistence and even deepening of economic inequality despite the gradual historical progress made towards racial and gender equality.

Put simply, the legislators of the French Revolution wanted first and foremost to separate public and private powers - to erect a public sphere in which the state had sole authority over laws, justice and morality. But at the same time, they put very strong guard rails around the private sphere of property. The way in which this would be justified would be to make a distinction between those property rights which were historically or linguistically associated with the excessed of the ancien regime, and those ‘just’ rights which were rooted in modern notions of free contract. Of course, these were arbitrary lines being drawn around a centuries-long process of often violent expropriation. But they were the lines that were drawn, and the lines that were to stay, even after the Bourbons returned to the French throne. What made propertarianism so enduring and powerful as an ideology is the way in which it made individual rights - and especially property rights - sacred, regardless of their origin or extent. Then, as now, the invocation of the right to property was to serve once and for all as a stop-gap against further radical redistribution.

For Piketty, the new propertarian order was a failure, but an explicable one. Through his own rigorously gathered data, Piketty shows that the new liberal France of the belle epoque was as fundamentally unequal, if not more so, than the feudal order which it had replaced. The ideological function of the new propertarian regime was to legitimise the perpetuation of gross material inequality for far longer than the previous ternary inequality regime had been able to. Yet for Piketty, we shouldn’t blame late-eighteenth century liberals for this failure - “political actors caught up in fast-moving events often have no choice but to draw on a repertoire of [past] political and economic ideologies. . . at times they may be able to invent new tools on the spur of the moment, but to do so takes time and a capacity for government that is generally lacking”. In other words, when revolutions occur there are only a limited set of examples and counterfactuals leaders can draw upon - as cultural evolution theory suggests, there wasn’t enough information evolve a more complex or egalitarian form of social organisation. Even if some utopians were calling for it, they had no way to overcome majoritarian caution and institutional inertia.

On the Justification of Inequality in Ownership Societies

“If one begins to question property rights acquired in the past, and the inequality that derives from them, in the name of a respectable but always imperfectly defined and contested conception of social justice about which consensus will never be achieved, doesn’t one run the risk of not knowing where this dangerous process will end? Political instability and permanent chows may then ensue . . .redistribution is a Pandora’s Box, which should never be opened”.

It may be that each new inequality regime thinks of itself as the End of History, the end of politics. But this is never so. By the early twentieth century, propertarianism was being torn apart by its own paradoxes - firstly, by the economic inequality it generated at home, secondly by its dependence on imperial conquest and colonial extraction in order to fund its need for constant capital accumulation, and finally, by the vicious and militaristic nationalism which the first two paradoxes unleashed.

Propertarian liberalism was modern in many ways, but regressive in others that we a century-and-a-half later find almost inconceivably rigid and inexplicable. Piketty demonstrates at length the consequences of comically-low levels of taxation in Western Europe on the accumulation of vast fortunes by elites, and how the struggle for voting rights which led slowly but inexorably towards universal suffrage was by-and-large part of the struggle for progressive taxation. What’s fascinating with the benefit of hindsight is how naturally the early liberal order accommodated itself to the idea of attaching property qualifications to voting - that even from the outset of the French Revolution, liberalism made distinctions between ‘active [tax-paying] citizens’ and passive or non-voting citizenship. Hilariously, Piketty shows that in Sweden until the 1920s, some electors could cast as many as a hundred ballots or represent more than half the electorate of their township if they were sufficiently wealthy. It perhaps says something that his model of ownership democracy remains the one extant in modern corporate governance to this day - at odds with ideological values at work in mainstream society.

This brings up an important element of the propertarian inequality regime which has been supplanted by a more moralistic and meritocratic ideology in modern capitalism. According to Piketty’s reading, in the nineteenth century “no trace of heroism remains in ownership society; there is no clear relation between the size of one’s fortune and one’s aptitude or capabilities . . .Each person plays the role assigned by his or her capital.” In other words, because the distribution of wealth in society is beyond question, there can be no thought given to the idea that wealth has either moral causes or consequences. [I would note that the situation was likely different in the United States, where the frontier society likely created an early incarnation of meritocratic, Protestant liberalism in which virtue and wealth went hand-in-hand].

In the end, Piketty’s account of propertarian liberalism - the first of three key variants he’ll discuss over the course of the book - is valuable to understanding the modern capitalist ideology, even as, as we shall see, inequality regimes grew more complex and continued to evolve over the course of the twentieth century.