Review: “The Deficit Myth” by Stephanie Kelton

Before getting into my review of Stephanie Kelton’s new bestseller, “The Deficit Myth: Modern Monetary Theory and How to Build a Better Economy”, it’s important to stipulate a few things. That the public discourse about debt and deficit in Western media, politics and academia is deeply, profoundly stupid. That advanced democracies - including Australia - face essentially no challenge to their ability to finance their fiscal deficits. That in the midst of what will no doubt be the opening stages of a second Great Depression, it’s inevitable that public debt should increase rapidly. And that the decision of the Australian federal Labor Party to launch a scare campaign against debt in the middle of a pandemic is at best questionable and at worst political malpractice. It is possible to believe all these things to be true, and remain strongly critical of Modern Monetary Theory (‘MMT’).

Deficit hawks - economists, journalists and politicians - who wring their hand at the size of government deficits are not now, nor have they ever, acted in good faith. It’s a right-wing propaganda exercise that has been so successful as to dominate the strategic imagination of almost all modern political leaders. Professor Kelton is quite right when she points out that the legal and budgetary manifestations of this ideology - debt ceilings, pay-as-you-go rules, efficiency dividends etc. - are arbitrary procedural constraints on our ability to build a better, more just world. But here’s the obvious question raised by Kelton’s career: is MMT also an exercise in propaganda? Do she and her colleagues genuinely believe that it’s only “bad reasoning [that’s] led to bad policy” and that MMT worldview will improve the quality of government decision-making? Or will her legacy be that of a highly effective communicator and propagandist? In the end, does it matter is MMT is true if it succeeds in demolishing ‘The Deficit Myth’ and encouraging political leaders and activists to ask more from their government?

Kelton is an effective and persuasive writer, and she’s written a popular and accessible introduction to MMT. The first four chapters of her book, outlining some of the key ideas of the MMT theory (that is: chartalism, a jobs guarantee, monetary financing and sectoral accounting) are succint, witty, well-argued and powerful. Kelton is also direct and up front in tackling some of the most common criticisms of MMT. Unfortunately, the back half of the book fares less well - it’s more-or-less a shopping list of ‘wouldn’t it be nice’ progressive policies that anyone who’s read a popular left-wing book in the last ten years (by Paul Mason, Rutger Bremen, Naomi Klein or the like - hell, even my first book) will be familiar with. Isn’t climate change terrible? Isn’t inequality bad? Shouldn’t someone do something about declining access to health, jobs and education? The limits of Kelton’s brand of politics are here on full display - as a former Democratic Party staffer, the last four chapters are as dry as you’d expect a staffer’s policy wish list to be. The book is similarly peppered with personal anecdotes and touching stories about the ordinary people she’s met outside Washington in the Real World(TM) - persuasive to the cocktail set, maybe, but not a manifesto for political revolution.

An Economist of Bravery & Renown

Kelton begins her book by tackling the conventional story about how governments fund their activities. Modern governments traditionally raise revenue in one of two ways - they either tax or borrow from the private sector. Kelton builds this picture into something of a straw man before commencing her attack upon it - that the government must raise revenue before it spends [i.e. a government can’t spend a dollar it doesn’t have]. Kelton made her bones as an economist by demonstrating that this isn’t accurate (you can read Nathan Tankus’ restatement of this article in a recent blog post here). The short version is that the Treasury can spend whatever it wants, whenever it wants, and Central Banks adjust the monetary reserves held by financial institutions to ensure that private savers can lend funds to the government. This is what MMT advocates mean when they say their theory is merely a description of the status quo: in their minds, government spending is already being financed by money creation - just with a few extra steps.

You can do several creative things with this insight. You can ignore the independent institutional existence of various government entities to claim that the Treasury and central bank are are single accounting entity, called the ‘federal government’, which creates money by spending it into existence. You can go down a chartalist rabbit-hole, arguing that the value of money is a result of demand for government-issued currency generated through taxation And, finally, you can argue that the middle men in the financial sector are unnecessary, and that the central bank’s ability to create money should just be plugged directly into the Treasury’s veins - monetarily financing government spending without deficits being covered by the issuance of government securities [i.e. bonds]. Kelton is upfront on a point that most MMT advocates - who are keen to downplay any radical implications of their theory - avoid: that is, that government’s choose to issue bonds to cover their debt, and could just as easily choose not to.

The Chartalism Fallacy and the Ontology of Money

I take issue with the Kelton’s account of money creation on several grounds. In the first instance, it’s misleading to claim that traditional budgeting says that governments can only spend dollars on hand: only that these accounts balance over an arbitrarily decided period of time. Tax revenue does not flow into government coffers evenly, and spending is spread out over the whole year. It’s just good financial practice to calculate all your incoming and outgoing, and identify any shortfalls. The decision of when the books must balance is arbitrary. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, the value of money is not simply derived from its role in the payment of taxes. Money has value to consumers as a stable medium of exchange - destabilising expectations of stability could make prices and wages unpredictable. But beyond that, money has value as a standard of deferred payment - a way of measuring imbalances in the inter-temporal flows of currency. Treasury bonds have value because they’re a record of the government’s promise to one day balance its books.

Moreover, all those middle men and financiers that MMT dismisses - the bond purchasers, the secondary dealers and primary financial institutions - are not merely there to take a cut of government spending [although they do that too!]. They generate resistance in the system, ensuring the flow of currency into the real economy doesn’t exceed the capacity of the private sector to handle it. I like to think of the difference between traditional government financing and MMT as akin to the difference between AC and DC power. In both instances, the central bank is generating monetary reserves which supply the operations of the Treasury. But in the ‘AC’ system, the bank is adding and taking away a fraction of the bank reserves of private financial institutions every day [‘oscillating the money supply’], which is passed on to those bank’s institutional customers, which is passed on to lenders and savers and eventually to the government in the form of either taxes or loans. In the MMT ‘DC’ system, money would flow directly from the central bank to the Treasury - without the resistance and accountability provided by the financial sector and with no guarantee that the real economy can handle the volume of currency being delivered safely.

Kelton truthfully admits that chartalism could be exploited by political conservatives to argue for widespread tax cuts. She herself often seems skeptical of taxation (like her intellectual mentor, Warren Mosler), describing it at various times as a burden, and is half-hearted in her condemnation of Republican giveaways to the elite. She also deliberately distances herself from what she describes as the ‘Robin Hood’ policies of Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren. Kelton does helpfully provides a list of reasons why taxes might be needed: for the government to requisition resources, to manage inflation, to engage in redistribution of wealth and income, and, as with the use of ‘sin taxes’, to control behaviour. One could argue that bonds have a similar set of purposes - for the government to requisition savings that aren’t being used, as a ‘sin tax’ on wealth that is not being productively invested, and as an equality-boosting measure to invest that capital for the benefit of those with the least access to it. And most importantly of all, to control inflation by removing liquidity from the private market in proportion to the liquidity injected by public spending.

In summary, then, MMT advocates a revolution in public finance. Either governments stop issuing bonds (and allow those already issued to be paid off gradually over time), or we anticipate that at some point in the future central banks will simply ‘delete’ their holdings of Treasury securities - a possibility that has already been floated by some as a response to massive balance sheets central banks have built up via quantitative easing. In some ways, this would be the ultimate debt ‘jubilee’ - governments unilaterally writing off their own prior promises to pay. But to destroy the bond market would be to un-moor a key tool of managing market interest rates and determining the value of country’s currency. Without information on market conditions, expectations of short and long run inflation could fluctuate wildly.

Despite its claims, MMT doesn’t end the debate over ‘how will we pay for it?’ - it simply resurrects a technique [monetary financing] that more conservative economists and politicians long assumed was anathema. To paraphrase Ian Malcolm, just because the government can do something, doesn’t meant it should.

The Last Word on Inflation?

Kelton’s chapter on inflation is appropriately cautious and realistic, given that inflation concerns are frequently levied by MMT critics. Conventional monetary theory predicts that monetary financing without debt issuance will increase inflation, outside of unusual economic conditions like demand shock we are currently living through. MMT advocates must tackle this topic head on, and Kelton does so by making the entirely valid point that no one, really, has any good idea of what causes inflation, and that the experts and institutions we rely on to manage inflation today have poor tools for the job. Shemakes the point that MMT only says that money is unlimited, not ‘real resources’, and that inflation can and will occur if government spending exceeds the capacity of the real economy to deliver goods and services. Fair enough [such a view is widespread among Keynesians], but if money quantises the power of currency users to call upon real resources, then expanding the money supply will also alter the capability of both public and private actors to access real resources - most likely reducing private purchasing power [i.e. causing inflation].

Kelton claims that inflation is only a risk when an economy is already operating at it’s ‘speed limit’, and that the existence of unemployment and other inefficiencies in the market economy suggests we are a long way from hitting this limit. I’ll address the unemployment question in the final part of this review, but Kelton goes on to claim that rather than worrying about debt and deficit (the measurable component of the currency flowing in and out of government) governments should concern themselves with balancing the supply and demand of real resources in the economy. Kelton’s vision is one of active and continuous tweaking of tax and spending levels to balance economic output and consumption, a herculean - perhaps utopian - and certainly politically impossible task. How these things are to be measured, and how governments should make policy under these conditions is anyone’s guess [MMT-er Brian Romanchuk labels this the ‘Noble Lie’ critique of MMT, and it’s also discussed in this review of Kelton’s book].

An economy’s ‘speed limit’, is in large part a function of the composition of its capital base, the skills and knowledge base of its workers, and its supply of natural resources and environmental goods. Moreover, these things are unevenly distributed between different geographical regions, across classes and among ethnic groups. It’s implausible that these things should be - or could be - meaningfully ’balanced’. The market will always be inefficient in some way or another, always operating at less than ‘full speed’ [in other words, structural unemployment is real] and to suggest that inflation is not a risk, or that it’s a risk that can be managed in a technocratic fashion, under these conditions seems positively Soviet in its ambition.

In the Dark Future of the 41st Millennium, there is only the Jobs Guarantee

It’s only towards the end of ‘The Deficit Myth’ that the beating technocratic heart of the MMT vision is on full display. Kelton knows and recognises that politicians who are barely able to make their accounts balance would never be able to make the finely-tuned tax and spending decisions necessary to regulate inflation in an unconstrained monetary environment. So in response she advocates taking policy-making out of the hand of legislators, of putting in place automatic spending programs - those designed by MMT economists, of course - that would algorithmically dispense funds and set taxation levels to ensure the economy was always running at ‘full speed’.

The MMT prescription for a jobs guarantee is emblematic of this way of designing public policy. Kelton argues, accurately I think, that central banks lack the conceptual and policy tools to fulfill their mandate of full employment, and instead set an arbitrary level of unemployment they judge ensures price stability. In the place of these technocrats, MMT argues, we should have an entirely different set of technocrats managing a universal jobs program, that would determine a minimum wage at which they would offer unlimited public jobs to anyone who wanted them with the objective of controlling inflation and maintaining full employment at all times. What these public jobs would entail is left largely unspecified and up to the reader’s imagination (but don’t worry, they’ll only be good, productive things, Kelton assures us!).

Kelton disavows the idea that a jobs guarantee would be a panacea for our economic and social ills, but she sure does come close to arguing that. Rather than acknowledge the democratic deficit that underlies the trade policies of modern capitalist states, and which have driven much of economic anxiety and dislocation that drove Brexit and the rise of Trump, Kelton merely promises us that a jobs guarantee would more than compensate for the losses of employment that follow trade liberalisation. Oh, and by the way, the job guarantee wage would be the minimum wage, competing directly with the most exploitative part of the labour market for workers while miraculously matching matching people with jobs that best suit their skills with zero friction.

As a leftist, I’m all for nationalising things in principle, but the jobs guarantee would represent nothing less than the nationalisation of the majority of the labour market. Which again, sounds very Soviet. Why any of this would be better than a guaranteed minimum income without any obligation to work is beyond me. In the last few days, MMT guru Bill Mitchell has become increasingly open about the authoritarian impulse that lies behind the jobs guarantee - but as Matt Breunig has helpfully pointed out over at the People’s Policy Project, the notion of replacing the current welfare system with a ‘duty to work’ has a deep roots among MMT advocates, including in Kelton’s own work. Maybe MMT is a fair and accurate description of how an economy that has solved the communist Calculation Problem could work [as one unfriendly review has pointed out, a recipe for permanent War Communism]. And in the meantime, if individuals have to put to work doing make-work tasks to ensure that the government ‘printing press’ doesn’t run the economy off the rails, well that’s just the price to pay for a rationally-organised economy.

Conclusion
Socialists agree with Kelton and the MMT crowd that government’s are neither good nor evil, and that distributional outcomes across the economy are what matters. So why then do we need MMT at all? Socialists have been arguing for social and economic redistribution for hundreds of years now. It’s hard, often brutal work that won’t be completed in our lifetimes. If the claim of MMT advocates like Kelton is that their theory will make winning redistribution easier, then they must also knowledge that it also makes life easier for the bad kind of government spending - enormous tax cuts, reckless foreign wars, insane subsidies for the already-well-off - and lays a rhetorical framework for the end of most tax-and-transfer programs as we know them. Ultimately, I think MMT has some value to the left as a rhetorical cudgel, to dispel the Deficit Myth once and for all. And in playing that role alone, Kelton’s success can be [carefully] applauded.

The perils of sectoral accounting

I have Stephanie Kelton’s new book, “The Deficit Myth” on pre-order, partly because I continue to be interested in Modern Monetary Theory (MMT), and partly because MMT proponents are worse than Marxists in insisting that one ‘does the reading’. While I wait, I watched Kelton’s talk yesterday at the Australia Institute, a progressive Canberra-based think tank (video embedded below). Kelton said little I disagree with, and I continue to sympathise with Richard Dennis, who long ago influenced my thinking on fiscal policy. Dennis has been pushing this particular anti-deficit hawk cart for so long it feels all he has left is (like a a good lib) to gesture towards the imagined hypocrisy of the conservatives. But for conservatives, the hypocrisy is the point. They discovered long ago that combining deficit hawkery with reckless giveaways while in power is a winning electoral formula.

One of the most frustrating things about MMT advocates, including Kelton, is they they claim, on the one hand, to merely be describing the monetary system (where they make some valid points), and on the other, to advocate for expansive progressive policies like a job guarantee, UBI or green new deal (which are good and desirable). But when a critic points out that using monetary financing (i.e. having the central bank directly fund government expenditure) for these programs is economically reckless and less equitable than using traditional tax-and-transfer, we’re told that these are totally separate spheres of activity and the validity of one does not affect the other. So why not just raise taxes to fund social programs and study the banking sector in obscure economic journals without engaging in high profile public advocacy? Kelton at least is honest - it’ll be simpler to get what we want if convince people deficits don’t matter. But my greatest fear is that some future social democratic government will be blamed for hyperinflation in the same way that UK Labour was in the 1970s, Australian Labor was in the 1980s, or many Latin American left-wing governments have been over the years. MMT is not a good leftist project, and yes, I recognise I’m engaging in in-group cringe when I say that.

Living in Hume’s gap

The best way I’ve found to call out and identify this conceptual jump is to ask MMT advocates a simple question: should governments issue bonds (i.e. obtain loans from private capital) equivalent in value to their fiscal deficit? The question sidesteps any debate over specific policies, while at the same time identifying a practice so at odds with how governments have financed themselves since the invention of the Bank of England that the answer can be shocking and revealing. Kelton’s answer is here, at 28:00.

Kelton’s analogy draws upon one of the key [and insightful] analytical tools of the MMT movement. When a government is in surplus, it has taken more money out of the economy than it has put in - and it’s unclear why any government or politicians would ever want to do this. This is termed ‘sectoral accounting’, and it’s just a way of seeing the economy as a closed system in which one agent’s deficits must necessarily represent a surplus for some other agent. In Kelton’s analogy, the government cannot - or should not - ‘borrow’ from the private sector because private sector surpluses have necessarily been first created by government spending.

The flaw in this reasoning is plain. Sectoral accounting is a powerful tool for helping us think about how resources circulate in the economy. But it’s not obvious why we should privilege the government and lump the rest of the economy together as a single conceptual unit. By the same logic, any private company - or individual - who borrows funds is putting money in everyone else’s pocket. In a sectoral accounting sense, this is true. But that doesn’t mean that any private company or individual debtor is creating money, or even creating value, by doing so. Kelton argues that when the government goes into debt and borrows $10, sectoral accounting suggests that the $10 it borrows was given to the private sector by government spending. But if I go to the bank and ask for a $35,000 car loan, I can’t just say “well, I’m spending $35,000 into the economy-that-is-not-me, and since you [the bank] are part of the economy-that-is-not-me, I have given you the funds you’ll use to give me the loan. So we’re even.” Money circulates in the private economy too, not just between private actors and the state.

The state and distribution

MMT does not simply rely on sectoral accounting - it privileges the state as an economic actor in at least two ways. The first is to claim a unity between the central bank and the treasury, such that the state is seen as sovereign over the supply of money in the economy. The second is to rely on neo-chartalist arguments that the state’s power to tax (underpinned by its monopoly on force) is the basis on which money is given value through the creation of demand for its currency. The key theoretical claim of MMT - that the government is the engine room of the economy - is baked in to the sectoral balance approach. But the reality is that money is also created by private financial institutions when they make loans (unless MMT advocates want to move to positive money, in which case, yikes), and the value of currency is significantly influenced by its role as a stable unit of exchange, and a stable unit of account. Until we live in fully automated luxury space communism, non-state actors will continue to play a significant, perhaps even dominant, role in the economy.

Let’s look at Kelton’s analogy more closely. When I take out a car loan, the car dealership (perhaps a business with tight margins) receives funds, while banks (which either have or can call upon surplus capital) lose funds. The purchasing power of the car dealership increases, the liquidity of the bank decreases, and I enter a relationship with the bank that gives them power over me greater than their loss of liquidity. Government borrowing is the same way: surplus value (which, if invested in government bonds, was not otherwise doing anything productive) is mopped up, whereas the social power of individuals and institutions that receive government funds increases. In other words, the way that governments fund themselves has distributional consequences.

In most everyday circumstances, the government calling upon surplus private capital to fund social spending offers a net distributional benefit to the economy and society. Most government borrowing is not only equity-enhancing, but also pro-growth: capital that otherwise would be invested in offshore savings accounts or wasted on luxuries is instead used for productive purposes, or to increase aggregate supply and demand in the real economy. Kelton’s analogy only works if government spending is, in whole or in part, going directly into the pockets of the rich. There’s certainly an argument that the many trillions of dollars that governments have pumped into stock and debt markets since the start of the coronvirus pandemic meet this criterion, and there’s an argument that this kind of capital bubble can be financed through monetary creation without triggering inflation. Maybe defence spending is the same. But if you’re hoping to inject funds into the real economy (as you would be through a job guarantee, UBI or green new deal), doing so without mobilising those funds from capital surpluses is inequitable at best and inflationary at worst.

Finally, there’s the point Kelton makes - which she credits to Stiglitz - that a government’s debtors gain power over that government in a way that is deeply undemocratic. This is true. Government bonds are interest-bearing and increase private wealth in the long-run. Here’s how I put the issue in my first book, “Politics for the New Dark Age: Staying positive amidst disorder”:

“The rate of interest on government debt constitutes a long-term source of revenue for the holders of capital wealth. . . .[I]n the long term, government debt effectively contributes to an increase in private wealth. Because those who can afford to lend to governments typically have large asset holdings, government interest payments tend to accelerate the accumulation of private capital and increase inequality while depressing the incomes of those at the bottom of the socio-economic scale. Government debt, therefore, actually serves the interest of those at home and abroad who have surplus wealth to lend to governments. Whether debt should be used to enhance equality, therefore, depends on whether the net redistributive benefit of government spending outweighs the corresponding wealth transfer to elites over the lifetime of the debt. Furthermore, high levels of government debt may allow the holders of that debt to exert influence over governments and shape policies to their liking.”

In this then, Kelton and I are in agreement. We should avoid government borrowing as much as we can. But we diverge on the details. As a socialist, I’m all about tax-and-transfer - let’s get those resources out of the hands of those that hoard them and into the hands of those that need them. Kelton, who is an experienced political operator, has a different proscription. In her experience, raising taxes is politically impossible. So then we should just rely on monetary financing to get the good things we agree need to be done, done. That’s a valid theory of change. But I fear it’s been tried before, and with the disastrous political results. Kelton’s tactic is especially problematic when MMT theory relies on fine-tuning of tax rates in order to control inflation - which, if your politics is founded on a core experience of political deadlock over tax, suggests you might have a problem. In fact, this combination - expanding social welfare spending while being unable or unwilling to meaningfully redistribute social resources - lies at the root of many historical and ongoing inflation episodes, in the view of Marxian economics.

I’ll chime in with a review of Kelton’s book when I’ve had the time to digest it!

On Human Nature

Pandemic notwithstanding, my second book “Evolutionary Politics” will hopefully be published this year. Tackling the topic of sociobiology - in other words, the natural origins of social behaviour - from a leftist perspective seems likely to generate few sympathetic readings. For right-wing and centrist critics of the left, to talk about ‘human nature’ at all is to reveal the hopelessly naive, hopelessly wrong, or hopelessly authoritarian nature of the left. Perhaps as a response to this, to talk of ‘human nature’ on the left is to be seen as a hopeless cynic, an essentiallist or determinist.

Few interactions in which Marx and human nature are on the table can be productive, in my experience, because of the dominant practice in western thought is the categorization of the essential quality of things. How, after all, are we taught what a thing is? We might begin with anecdotal oberservations of an object, and use inductive reasoning to abstract some essential quality which is shared by all the objects of that category we have observed (most chairs have four legs, for example). Much of pre-modern philosophy was constructed this way. Scientific empiricism does not, in general, deviate much from this approach, supplanting imperfect anecdote with rigorous data collection, statistical methods and probabilistic inference. But the core metaphysical practice is the same - to construct an ideal category of thing (‘chairs’) which explains something useful about the members of that category.

What both many self-described Marxists and their critics fail to recognise is that Marx was first and foremost a philosopher - he only became an economist later in life - and that his work is actually embedded in a different kind of thought process. Marx never talks about a fixed ‘human nature’, but rather of ‘Gattungswesen’ or ‘species-being’. What is to be human therefore, is embedded in human life, activity and interaction: “The whole character of a species, its species-character, is contained in the character of its life activity”. Or, as the sixth thesis on Feuerbach puts it, “The essence of man is . . .an ensemble of social relations’”. Like Hegel, Heraclitus and the process philosophers, Marx inverts the standard Western metaphysics. Rather than defining categories of things and studying the relations between those categories, we define the interactions and study things as the product of their interaction. A ‘chair’, in in other words, is anything used by humans for sitting.

This is something that the panpsychics and other big-brain wannabe physicists repeatedly fail to understand about themselves. One of the most common complaints about the Standard Model of physics is that it doesn’t tell us anything about what the fundamental particles ‘are’. We can describe their interactions in great deal, but for western metaphysicians the point particle is a singularity about which we still know knowing. Contemporary physics describes a gloriously complex universe made of overlapping fields and tensions, forces and probabilities criss-crossing physical space like waves on the ocean. Particles are merely objects defined by the interactions of these fields. Philosophically, or scientifically, there is nothing more we could or should want to know about them than that.

Evolutionary sociology for Marxists

I intensely dislike the work of the Australian philosopher Peter Singer. I am frequently apalled by by lack of restraint on his utilitiarianism; I disagree with the way that he cloaks himself in the banner of animal rights to claim himself a progressive; and believe the outcome of his views are deeply reactionary. Singer’s 1999 pamplet, “A Darwinian Left” is referenced in my forthcoming book, but it stands as a warning of the wrong way to approach sociobiology. Singer argues for an intrinsic human nature which is fundamentally at odds with most of progressive theory and practice. Like Dawkins, the best Singer can find in nature is kin selection, which he argues explains some parochial forms of altruism towards our friends and family while undermining any universalist liberal pretensions. “Evolutionary Politics”, if nothing else, will offer an extended rebuttal of this line of thinking.

Evolutionary biologists do not think, or write, like Peter Singer. Evolutionary systems are characterised by the three processes of generalised Darwinism: variation, selection and (self-)replication. A population displays variation when every otherwise equivalent agent in that population possesses some property (s) which causes measurably (or ‘phenotypically’) different interactions with the agent’s environment. Every fundamental particle, for example, has identical physical properties and will interact with physical forces in an identical manner. Even molecules as large as proteins have consistent and predictable chemical properties. However, complex polymers (including DNA) can have variable properties while remaining chemically similar enough to treat as a population of interacting agents of a single type .

Selection is any process by which an agent in a population with property (s) receives a second property (u() which we call fitness, as a result of an interaction. Fitness can represent any property or payoff, so long as it’s acted upon by the third process (replication). Fitness can be almost any measurable quantity, defined in any direction: it may represent abstract utility, attractiveness, repulsiveness, warmth, chilliness, income, wealth, poverty, proximity to the colour ‘blue’, or degree of aural distinguishability from the sound of a malfunctioning vacuum cleaner. In other words, the variability of the property (s) generates differential fitness (u). Lastly, replication is any process which relates the frequency of agents with the property (s) at time t + 1 to their fitness (u) at time t. While many chemical and nuclear reactions differentially produce output products, only a tiny subset of reactions maintain or increase the population of interacting agents. Auto-catalytic or self-replicating populations that also demonstrate variation constitute the complex system we label ‘life’.

The correct leftist understanding of sociobiology is therefore simple. ‘Human nature’ is simply any social behaviour which is generated from a natural, evolutionary process. Humans, as a species, evolved through natural (and cultural) selection, and therefore our ‘essence’ or species-being is as things adapted through that evolutionary process. As my second book will explain, that means both that the idea of a fixed human nature is untenable - what is adaptive in any given context will depend on the composition of a species’ population and its environment - but also that the potential for both cooperation and competition must be seen as part of what it means to be human. This is because both competitive and cooperative strategies can be evolutionary stable under the conditions of natural selection. Progressives are not, as Steven Pinker likes to claim, ‘blank slatists’. We merely reject the idea that empirical observation of human behaviour, no matter how rigorous, can tell us what it means to be human without an understanding of the complex causes (in Niko Tinbergen’s sense) that led to that behaviour.

The Marxist ‘New Man’

Over the decades following his death, Marx’s adage that human nature was determined by the totality of his [sic] social relations, morphed into the the ideal of the ‘New Soviet Man’, which continues to figure largely in the popular caricature of leftism. Many leftist thinkers, including most notably Gramsci, described convincingly how human social relations were produced by their need to support a society’s mode of economic production, and that the entirety of social relations were configured around the needs of capital. The leftist sociological critique of capitalism is perhaps, its greatest and most enduring intellectual contribution. But the idea that changing the mode of production by giving more control to workers would produce a ‘New Soviet Man’ of superior moral character is a bastardization of that theory. The ‘New Man’ is one consequence of changes in the social base, not the goal in and of itself.

Marxism is not a theory of individual morality. Leftists are not trying to produce better people; and any self-described communist who claims that as their aim is not a leftist. We do not believe that moral actions are a consequence of innate virtue, rather, moral actions are a consequence of moral social structures. The desire to discipline individuals is reactionary and conservative, not progressive. Confusing this distinction leads to Stalinist authoritarianism, and the critique of it from liberals. Human behaviour is a product of social relations and that as those relations change human behaviour will change without state interference. The desire to create of moral individuals is utopianism, and modern leftists should want no part in it.

Yet it is a vast oversimplification to reduce the Marxist contribution to a question of economic determinism. There is more to being human than mode of production - Marx and Engels were deeply, if passingly, also interested in the question of social reproduction. In this way, we can see how leftism and sociobiology are fundamentally compatible, rather than antagonistic, social theories. Social behaviour is in part the product of a species which has been subject to the forces of evolution. And it is also the product of economic relations, which vary from place to place and time to time but which share some transhistorial and transcultural commonalities. These two sets of relations define the broad contours of human nature. The force that bridges the gap between nature and economics is culture, which evolves in its own right and as a superstructure on top of a society’s economic base.

A new way forward

The same perspectice can be applied to any aspect of human behaviour. Thinking in terms of processes, and not categories, we recognise that it would be wrong to define ‘man’ or ‘woman’ in terms of some essential category, or catalogue those traits - good or bad - which we imagine to be possessed by some ethnic groups and not others. Instead, gender can only be understood as a relationship - an interaction which defines genders in terms of relations of oppression and subordination - which we label patriarchy. By the same token, we cannot understand ‘whiteness’ until we realise that it is defined in terms of its relationship with the ‘Other’. Ollie from Philosophy Tube has recently addressed precisely this point.

Similarly, we cannot and should not imagine that ‘rascism’, ‘misogyny’, ‘homophobia’ or ‘transphobia’ are innate, fixed traits. Generally, every member in good standing of a liberal society possesses a mental model of a person who is a ‘rascist’ or ‘sexist’ etc. We construct these categories on the basis of the observation of common traits - often traits that are communicated via the media rather than through direct observation. So a rascist is a person who uses certain taboo words or phrases, for examples, or a sexist is a person who sexually harassess and belittles women, and a homophobe is a person who engages in violence against sexual minorities. But when progressives talk about rascism, misogyny or homophobia we are talking about systems of interaction - no person ‘is’ a rascist, essentially; rather, we note that their behaviour reproduces a pattern of interaction between dominant and subaltern groups that affirms and reproduces those relations. The good news, as with evolutionary sociology and historial materialism, is that none of these traits are fixed and will adapt themselves to changing patterns of social relations, which we can influence through other means.

Finally, we would be remiss if we did not apply the same way of thinking to ourselves. No activist, no politician, ‘is’ a progressive merely by some feature of their essential identity (I’m looking at you Elizabeth Warren, Anthony Albanese etc). Rather, progressive is as progressive does - a left-wing activist or politician challenges, critiques and reforms systems of power. Any politician who does not behave in this way - who through their actons reifies inequality and unjustified hierarchies, is not a progressive, regardless of how they may think of themselves, or be measured in academic journals. In the all-too-common reduction of progressive politics to the collection of essential identity categories - a gay mayor! a black president! a female CEO! - we witness the end of the left as a dynamic historical force.

Pandemic economics does not validate MMT

One of the more-or-less less irritating things about this pandemic is the unrelenting smugness of the MMT (‘Modern Monetary Theory’) crowd. Central banks have shown absolutely no hesitation in turning the taps on to support markets in a financial crisis that – lucky for capitalism – was exogenously driven. And governments worldwide are experimenting, as they usually do during recessions, with jobs programs and direct cash payments to try and prime the economic pump for when lockdowns are lifted. These shifts in macroeconomic policy are massive, unprecedented, and will carry ramifications for years to come. What they have not (yet) done, however, is validate the ambition of MMT proponents to make use of such operations for routine financing of government - the pursuit of which I believe to be toxic to the left’s broader redistributive goals.

I wrote in a previous blog that: “The best evidence MMT proponents have is that [ten years of post-GFC] supply-side quantitative easing (QE) has been neither inflationary nor stimulatory; their ideal outcome is that demand-side 'peoples' QE is also not inflationary but does a better job at stimulating growth.”

I’m not an economist, nor have I worked in public finance. But even a bit of cursory and preliminary reading suggests that pandemic economics provides little, if any, theoretical, political or economic support for the utopian claims of MMT advocates. In my first book, “Politics for the New Dark Age: Staying Positive Amidst Disorder” I supported the approach of counter-cyclical fiscal expansion in an economic downturn, and for credit expansion in a credit crunch. Unlike the GFC, this time more governments are following Kevin Rudd’s advice on recession prevention: go hard, and go early. Central banks have gone very hard indeed, as we shall see. But two questions would need to be answered for MMT to be shown ‘correct’: why has QE not been inflationary until now, and will it become so at the scale currently being undertaken?

What are central banks actually doing

The core claim to fame of MMT economists is that they provide a descriptive account of central bank operations that is more sophisticated and realistic than mainstream economists. This is, I think, true and has been repeatedly acknowledged by bank governors themselves. Central banks are notoriously – perhaps even deliberately – opaque institutions with economic power vastly disproportionate to their level of accountability. Broadly speaking, a central bank underwrites the financial system of an economy through its influence over the money supply and interest rates. They have many tools for performing this function, which can be broadly categorised as conventional (routine functions that are essential to the economy), unconventional (functions that central banks can do to a limited extent and cognisant of risks), and taboo (functions that central banks don’t want, and shouldn’t want, to do). The core policy claim of MMT theorists, as I understand them, is that unconventional and taboo central bank operations are in fact, safe and effective and/or no more or less safe and effective than conventional operations.

A central bank usually regulates the economy by setting its own interest rates, including the rate it lends to other banks at and the interest it pays to depositors. Under ordinary economic conditions, this is sufficient to influence the amount of liquidity in the economy, but following the GFC interest rates have been near-zero in developed economies for nearly a decade and have dipped into negative territory for some purposes in Japan and the EU. Negative interests rates – where the central bank pays you to loan money and you pay it to deposit funds – are an unconventional monetary policy. However, negative interest rates are deleterious in the long-term, as they establish deflationary expectations and erode the value of savings.

The other main tool of conventional central bank operations are so-called ‘open market operations’, the dominant form of which are short-term ‘loans’ against the value of securities (usually, but not always, government bonds). Put very simply, a bond-holder agrees to sell it to the central bank in exchange for newly-created ‘cash’, on the understanding that after a short period of time (sometimes overnight, usually after a week, and rarely after a month or more) they will repurchase the bond. Through the use of such ‘repo’ markets, the central bank can control the availability of government bonds, and thus the interest on them. In unconventional times, central banks can dramatically extend market liquidity by expanding the scale and scope of such loans (‘expanding their balance sheet’), and who they are available to, as well as offering longer-term repayments (as the Reserve Bank of Australia has done). The central bank may also be willing to lend against a more diverse range of assets, including mortgage-backed securities (as the US did during the GFC), other forms of private debt, real property and even equity in firms.

A debt is, and always has been, a minor financial miracle. If I lend you a dollar, I have in effect doubled its value – because now you have the original dollar (minus interest), and I now own a dollar of debt (plus interest) that I can exchange for value with others. When the central bank ‘lends’ against an asset, it swaps that asset for cash (which it ‘creates’ by depositing the funds in the corresponding institutions accounts at the bank), increasing the overall money supply. This provides liquidity to firms at a time when they may need it. But when the balance sheet contracts, those loans are repaid, the debt is cancelled, and the money supply shrinks once again. MMT is suffused with what is often termed neo-chartalism, the fringe theory that taxation is the origin of the value of money. Chartalism argues that taxation creates demand for a government’s own currency, which it meets through fiscal spending - it’s a clever but misleading hypothesis. As both the financial and anthropological literature have repeatedly shown, debt is a more important source of the value of money (the ‘standard of deferred payment’). Unless we think in terms of whole-of-economy balances, as MMTers do, government spending is not debt (i.e. I don’t owe the government anything if I receive healthcare benefits) and taxation is not a repayment for services rendered. But MMT is suffused with this kind of libertarian thinking.

Next, central banks can regulate the money supply through the direct purchase of assets – this is what is usually meant by ‘pure’ quantitative easing (QE). Although some direct bond purchases may be part of conventional open market operations, quantitative easing differs in that central banks acquire a significant percentage of a nations net capital with no obligation for the assets to be returned. Unlike other measures which temporarily expand liquidity, asset purchases have proved hard to reverse. After 11+ years of off-and-on QE, central banks in the US and Europe owned assets worth close to 30 per cent of GDP (and in Japan, 50 per cent) prior to the current pandemic. In other words, QE has become a permanent feature of monetary policy under late-capitalism, a massive subsidy to the capital sector financed directly by monetary creation. It is this result, more than any other, than MMT proponents lean on in public debate to argue that monetary financing is not inflationary.

Breaking taboos

Finally, we come directly to ‘helicopter money’ or direct monetary financing, the most taboo form of central bank operation. When the central bank makes loans, those loans are secured against assets. When it buys assets, they will sit on its balance sheet until sold back. But central banks could also simply credit the bank accounts of its depositors with funds (without taking on any sort of collateral) - including, most notably, the accounts of the national government. It could, in theory, do the same in the bank accounts of every citizen, and this is usually what UBI proponents advocate. Expanding the money supply in this way is probably inflationary; its unconstitutional in Germany (of course) and most developed country banks swear up and down that it remains anathema. However, the scale of central bank intervention unleashed in response to the coronavirus pandemic suggests that some countries (though probably not Australia) have moved from the realm of merely unconventional QE to break the taboo of de facto debt monetization - in other words, the direct financing of government spending by ‘printing’ money.

The allegation (including from Germany’s Constitutional Court) is that by purchasing government bonds in the secondary market, central banks are monetizing government debt, albeit in a roundabout way, using only a thin veneer of capital markets to launder what it’s doing. Rather than owing private lenders, governments are using centrals banks to ‘re-nationalise’ bonds and print money instead. Even prior to the pandemic, the European Central Bank (ECB) had purchased more than two trillion euros of government debt between 2015-2019. In other words, though there’s still strong private sector demand for public bonds, if this demand is underwritten by a central bank guarantee that such bonds can always be offloaded for a profit, then there are perhaps no limits on the government’s ability to raise funds from private lenders. Oh, and private sector middle men make a tidy profit along the way. One has to trust that central banks have institutional safeguards against that outcome – Germany’s Constitutional Court essentially ruled this month that the ECB was operating without sufficient oversight to ensure that trust existed.

The pandemic has taken this practice from ‘cheeky and maybe a little suspicious’ to mainstream central bank policy overnight. Macroeconomics has moved from life support to death’s door. The US federal reserve monetized almost the entire initial US bailout in March, and although it has slowed its pace dramatically, the US may monetize trillions more in additional government stimulus over the remainder of 2020. The ECB and Bank of Japan haven’t slowed down much at all, and some developing economies are following suit. This activity is truly unprecedented in both scale and ambition and it remains an open question whether it’s been a necessary tool to prevent a worse financial crash, whether it will trigger a wave of inflation, or both. One suspects that we might have been better off forcing the markets to chip in more for their own rescue, if only as a way to mobilise excess savings from the top end of town.

The debt’s the thing

So now we return to the question raised in my previous blog. Why didn’t QE (supply-side money creation) generally lift inflation over the last ten years – which quite frankly governments and central banks had been counting on? Part of the answer lies in the failure of supply-side economics in general – what capitalism is suffering from – as a result of decades of austerity, rising inequality and now the novel coronavirus is a catastrophic collapse in demand. Any attempt to inflate the economy by providing the wealthy and large corporations with extra liquidity only inflates a capital bubble, and lowers the marginal cost of funds, encouraging hoarding, consolidation and wasteful consumption that doesn’t enter the real economy and benefits only the 1%. Labour productivity and GDP has diverged; the velocity of money has decreased; companies have been historically profitable since the GFC despite real wages stagnating; and stock prices, even after the pandemic panic, have been positively buoyant.

But the theoretical reason why inflation has remain stubbornly low may be more straightforward - and may suggest why the current round of debt monetization may be different When a central bank buys an asset, or loans funds to the private sector using a bond or other collateral, it exchanges newly-created money for a legal title or obligation. In essence, a real resource in the economy has been swapped for a virtual currency, and when the loan is paid back the currency disappears and the asset re-enters the economy in its place. As far as I know, and unlike a commercial bank, central banks do not re-invest or loan against the value of their balance sheet. In other words, when the central bank removes a real resource from the economy, it’s sequestered in much the same way that a sovereign wealth funds attempts to sequester excess profits from the economy. In my book, I describe wealth as un- or under-utilised capital (in much the same way that un- or under-employed people represent unutilised labour). In undertaking QE, a central bank essentially exchanges such assets for more fungible resources [i.e. currency].

This suggests a theory. QE has not reliably produced to inflation so far because it merely adjusted the mix of capital assets in the economy, and did not change the total ratio of available money to real production and consumption. This suggests that under normal conditions QE is not necessarily inflationary (i.e. related to the size of the money supply), but may have adverse distributional effects (i.e. related to the composition of the money supply). Increasing the liquidity of capital markets may help lubricate the economy in a credit crunch; but at other times, it provides opportunities for existing capital owners to expand and diversify their portfolios. And more liquid capital means more capital flight, and asset purchases and inflation in developing markets (again, much like sovereign wealth funds). This might help explain why academic studies can find no consistent inflationary effects from ten years of central bank QE in the developed world.

Monetary financing, including the current pandemic response and other policies advocated by MMT acolytes, is arguably an entirely different beast. Directly crediting bank accounts (including the bank accounts of the government) with newly-created currency without removing a corresponding volume of capital from the economy does change the ratio of money in circulation to real production and consumption. Money becomes less valuable, even as the wealthy hang on to the legal right to control and profit from their existing holdings. As has been widely noted, a monetised UBI would merely increase rents and other prices. Even if monetary financing were employed fairly and in ways that offset its severe distributional consequences, we still could not ignore the inflationary risk.

MMT is not a progressive policy

It will be months, and perhaps years, until we know the macroeconomic fallout from the current crisis. Just because central banks may be engaging in large scale debt financing, doesn’t meant that they should, or that there won’t be consequences from doing so. It’s possible - perhaps even likely - that at least some countries will end up with 1930s or 1970s-style stagflation. But even if by some miracle massive central banks interventions save capitalism, the long-term distributional consequences of monetary financing benefit the current owners of capital at the expense of workers, students, retirees and we on the left should want no part in them.

There’s no evidence, following ten years of on-and-off QE in the heart of the capitalist world that increasing market liquidity improves market conditions for consumers. When real economic growth is anemic, major financial institutions do not use additional liquidity to extend lending to small businesses or consumers. In fact, evidence suggests that central bank policies to make loans conditional on the funds being recycled into the real economy simply leads to those loan programs going unused - if investing in the real economy were profitable, banks would already be doing so. It’s hard to know where the money is all going but the fact that US billionaires have - personally! - increased their wealth by nearly half a trillion dollars since the pandemic began hints that most is being gambled on stock prices, used to buy-up distressed assets (including overseas), or otherwise entrench the economic power of the largest firms. Trickle down economics, unsurprisingly, is bullshit in such a heavily financialised economy.

Another major risk of QE on this scale is that government bonds eventually have to be repaid. Even if it looks like an accounting trick, those bonds on the central bank’s balance sheet will one day come due. The credit expansion has to be unwound, which means either the government voluntarily deleting vast quantities of its own revenues, or owing vast sums to private actors who buy the (possibly heavily discounted) bonds back. The inevitable political consequence, either way, is another age of austerity in which social programs are cut, regressive taxes rise, and wage labour remains in acute distress. MMT advocates will argue that they reject the fiction that issuing bonds are necessary to finance government spending, but if that fiction is all that stands between us and stagflation, the ultimate effect for the worker is the same: living standards will inevitably decline.

Could QE have been done in a fairer way? In the US, progressives have talked about using the central bank to buy up vast sums of student and medical debt, monetising distressed labour instead of distressed capital. That would certainly have been a strongly stimulatory, once-off transition policy, had the left any real political power to speak of. But as a socialist, who thinks that individuals should not have to go into debt to enjoy access to their fundamental economic and social rights, we should be using this crisis to organise people to fight for permanent, universal public programmes, not telling them that their financial problems are a macroeconomic illusion.

From bad to worse

MMT acolytes are wrong to say they’ve been vindicated by the response to the pandemic. The evidence just isn’t there yet - and if I were a betting man the widespread consensus that this level of monetized government debt will lead to inflation, austerity or both seems more plausible than a miraculous escape from hundreds of years of economic history. MMT’ers always emphases that money matters less than money’s power to control access to real resources in the economy. I agree. But by this very metric, if the sorts of financial policies MMT supporters envisage got off the ground, the unequal distribution of real resources in the economy would remain unchallenged, and there’s a high chance that access to those resources would become even more unjust as prices inflate and currencies devalue.

Virtue and the aristocratic tendencies of liberalism

Liberalism, as a collection of philosophical, political and economic beliefs, is a universalising ideology that shares with the messianic religions a transcendental and utopian character. Like organised religions, liberal societies therefore must confront the fundamental challenge of a material existence that does not usually confirm to ideological expectations. Whereas for many Christians, the assumption of a Good God creates the Problem of Evil; for liberals, who value above all Liberty or Freedom, their perennial challenge has been and remains to explain the problem of Unfreedom: why is it that liberal societies fail to emerge spontaneously, why do so many prove to be unable or unwilling to deliver on their utopian promises, and why do even modern liberal subjects so often come to rebel against its most cherished values?

The God that failed

From the perspective of the early twenty-first century, the elitist tendencies of early liberal philosophers seem obvious; the popular franchise - even for men - wasn’t established practice in the Anglo-Saxon world until the mid-nineteenth century. Locke was heavily invested in slavery, as were many of the US Founding Fathers; Locke famously had a hand in drafting a constitution for Carolina that would have entrenched serfdom and a hereditary aristocracy. In addition to his shockingly racist prejudice, Immanuel Kant was an elitist who believed the ‘unthinking masses’ could achieve enlightenment 'only slowly’. Adam Smith, Rousseau, Montesquieu - all the greats adhered more or less to a republican or ‘aristocratic’ form of liberalism, one I have previously called ‘Liberty for me but not for thee’.

Liberals were not democrats in the nineteenth century. They were (by definition) against universal suffrage. They were neither reactionary nor politically radical. . . .[M]any types of liberalism had limited political demands when judged from a democratic perspective. . . .[T]he aristocratic liberals’ elitism was a trait widely shared by liberals [and so] liberal discourse, while preserving its democratic potential, tended to adhere to this elitist reality” [Hollinger]

Democracy and liberalism, therefore, have always had a tense relationship - the two are not nearly as joined at the hip as we like to think. Philosophers and politicians have responded to this tension in various ways. How can the apparent hypocrisy between the egalitarian promises of liberalism and the lived experience be resolved without engaging in wholesale critique of either limb? In moral philosophy, there are three main approaches one might take to the resolution of an ethical problem like this: virtue ethics, consequentialism (or utilitarianism), and deontological (or rule-based) ethics. Since liberal capitalism has tended to produce the strongest sustained increases in average standards of living, utilitarians such as Bentham and Mill (and also to some extent, Hayek, Marx and modern neoliberals) saw the trade-offs in terms of individual suffering and alienation as worth paying. This bargain comes under strongest threat when capitalism lurches into crisis and those gains are wiped away, as they are right now. On the other hand, deontological liberals such as John Rawls and Elizabeth Anderson argue that the liberal social contract, despite its elitist origins, can be purified and reformed - their liberalism is aspirational and utopia remains achievable. This is the version of liberalism that most people on the centre-left hold to be true.

But, as I will argue here, mainstream liberalism has not entirely broken with its aristocratic past, and this ‘brahmin liberalism’ (as Thomas Piketty calls it) dips into the well of virtue ethics of explain, and justify, the inherent tension between liberty and equality. In fact, in responding to the anti-democratic critique of the counter-enlightenment, many of liberalism’s greatest defenders in the early twentieth century - including Joseph Schumpeter and Hannah Arendt - held firmly elitist views often drawing explicitly on Kant. Arendt, for example, thought that regard for the masses - who could only ‘labour’ - constituted a betrayal of liberalism and it was only ‘men’ of ‘action’ who could defend a narrow, negative form of liberty from an overweening democracy. The preferences of some in society (the elites) are better ‘informed’ than those of others; their reason more dispassionate, their temper cooled by virtue. For neoliberals, elites know what is in everybody’s own best-interest, and democracies should just get out of the way.

Beyond Good and Evil

So for liberal elites, including those in the mainstream media, what justifies their own [unequal] position in society, as they simultaneously propagate an ideology of equity and equal dignity? I believe the most crude and unsophisticated justification of this equality is based in virtue ethics: the idea that some individuals have a superior character to others, and in they can be, in their actions, presumed to be good and noble even if they perpetuate a system of inequality, hierarchy and oppression. In general, liberal elites know that others are virtuous when they perform the social roles which signal virtue: including rote denunciations of racism, sexism and homophobia, the avoidance of taboo words and topics, the use of dispassioned, technocratic language and the disdain of working class or vulgar aesthetics. Since elites are liberals and liberals are elites, the aesthetic tastes and preferences of elites are presumed to also be liberal. Liberal elites could therefore never support an avowedly leftist political project, the tactics and purposes of which is anathema to their worldview, the cross-class solidarity building inconsistent with their purity of form. For the modern Democratic party in the US, ‘suburban, Facebook empathy moms’ are potentially virtuous, whereas Bernie Bros are not.

The problem with virtue politics is that it lacks a theory of change. How could we hope to change society when goodness is unequally distributed? The working class bogans of the American South, or Western Sydney in Australia, are seen as irredeemable - transgressive, reactionary, incapable of change. Their un-woke political views and xenophobia a sign of immorality, not a contingent response to the anxieties of alienated living under capitalism. The only way to rule is to form a centrist party of the dinner-party elites, fronted by a charismatic neoliberal-in-a-suit, and to hold on to power by any [undemocratic] means necessary. Such a politics also tends to support a mindset of developmental imperialism abroad and domestic fascism towards colonised and subaltern social groups. Pete Buttigieg, Justin Trudeau or Emmanuel Macron is their ideal avatar. There’s an almost Calvinist strain to this kind of liberalism, which sees the fates of vast swathes of the population as fixed and determined, poverty and social alienation their divine punishment.

“One of the ironies of this dark side of liberalism is that education was supposed to lift up the unwashed masses so that democracy could gradually be extended to all (but only in the limited sense of the vote). This [is called] ‘developmental democracy’. But as liberals became more pessimistic about the ability of people to become rational, even through education, the humanist values that education was to bring to the masses - high culture, rationality, self-control, respect for the value of diversity, the ability to make informed judgments - [became] values to which only a small minority could aspire. These would become the people qualified to be members of the cultural and political elite”. [Hollinger]

It turns out, people do not respond well to liberals castigating their moral failings from the bully pulpit. They tend to take on the fallen political identity that liberals ascribe to them - as deplorables, reactionaries and bigots. Liberals enable fascists to create an alternative moral universe in which ignorance and xenophobia are worn as badges of honour. Even those that might want to better themselves largely find that the price for entry into high society is too high, and disengage from social and cultural life altogether - withdrawing their tacit support for the liberal society whose high representatives hold them in such disdain. I have argued elsewhere that the only way liberalism can be defended is by expanding and perfecting the circle of equal dignity with which we treat our fellow human beings - any attempt to reify hierarchy and inequality under liberalism, in response to its manifest failure to deliver on its promises, ends up undermining the legitimacy of the whole liberal project which is essential to its long-term survival.

Don’t be an elitist jerk

So for my fellow progressives, including very many well-meaning members of the liberal intelligentsia, left-liberals and social democrats, my advice is as follows: be wary of either consciously or unconsciously, ascribing the political beliefs of others to either malice or ignorance. In game theoretical terms, an individual’s strategy is just their best available heuristic response to the strategies of others. By assuming that those who don’t support one particular vision of aristocratic liberalism must be either inherently illiberal, stupid or evil, liberal elites are walking an ever-shrinking tightrope towards disaster. As we think about how we’re going to get out yet another global economic recession, and as consequentialist defences of liberalism are weaker than they’ve ever been, we need to expand the liberal/progressive base more than ever. That means seeking and accepting the support of the virtuous and unvirtuous alike.