Economics, Model, Politics

Meditations on Regulation, or the Case of the $10,000 Staircase

[10-minute read]

Breaking news: a retired mechanic spent one afternoon and $550 building a staircase. This is news because the City of Toronto said it would cost $65,000 for them to do it. They’ve since walked back that estimate, claiming it won’t be that expensive (instead, the final cost looks to be a mere $10,000).

Part of this is materials and labour. The city will probably go for something a bit more permeant than wood – probably concrete or metal – and will probably have higher labour costs (the mechanic hired a random guy off the street to help out, which is probably against city procurement policy). But a decent part (perhaps even the majority) of the increased costs will be driven by regulation.

First there’s the obvious compliance activities: site assessment, community consultation, engineering approval, insurance approval. Each of these will take the highly expensive time of highly skilled professionals. There’s also the less obvious (but still expensive and onerous) hoops to jump through. If the city doesn’t have a public works crew who can install the stairs, they’ll have to find a contractor. The search for a contractor would probably be governed by a host of conflict of interest and due diligence regulations; these are the sorts of thing a well-paid city worker would need to sink a significant amount of time into managing. Based on the salary information I could find, half a week of a city bureaucrat’s time already puts us over the $550 price tag.

And when the person in charge of compliance is highly skilled, the loss is worse than simple monetary terms might imply. Not only are we paying someone to waste her time, we are also paying the opportunity cost of her wasting her time. Whenever some bright young lawyer or planner is stuck reading regulatory tomes instead of creating something, we are deprived of the benefits of what they could have created.

When it comes to the stairs, regulations don’t stop with our hypothetical city worker. The construction firm they hire is also governed by regulations. They have to track how much everyone works, make sure the appropriate taxes go to the appropriate parties, ensure compliance with workplace health and safety standards and probably take care of a dozen minor annoyances that I don’t know about. When you aren’t the person doing these things, they just blend into the background and you forget that someone has to spend a decent part of their time filling out incredibly boring government forms – forms that demand accuracy under pain of perjury.

No source needed, because I stole this from a US government form and no documents produced by the US government can be copyrighted
What, you never noticed how fond government documents were of waving the p-word around? This basically says “fill this out right, or one of the state’s armed enforcers will use violence to bring you to a small room that you won’t be allowed to leave for a very long time”.

Hell, the very act of soliciting bids can inflate the cost, because each bid will require a bunch of supporting paperwork (you can’t submit these things on a sticky note). As is becoming the common refrain, this takes time, which costs money. You better bet that whichever firm eventually gets hired will roll the cost of all its failed past bids (either directly or indirectly) into the cost the city ends up paying.

It’s not just government regulations that drive up the price of stairs either. If the city has liability insurance, it will have to comply with a bunch of rules given to it by its insurer (or face higher premiums). If it chooses to self-insure, the city actuaries will come up with all sorts of internal policies designed to lessen the city’s chance of liability – or at least lessen the necessary payout when the city is inevitably sued by some drunk asshole who forgets how to do stairs and breaks a bone.

With all of this regulation (none of which seems unreasonable when taken in isolation!) you can see how the city was expecting to shell out $65,000 (at a minimum) for a simple set of stairs. That they managed to get the cost down to $10,000 in this case ­(to avoid the negative media attention of over-estimating the cost of stairs more than one hundred times over?) is probably indicative of city workers doing unpaid overtime, or other clever cost hiding measures [1].

The point here is that regulation is expensive. It’s expensive everywhere it exists. The United States has over 1,000,000 pages of federal regulation. Canada makes its federal regulation available as a compressed XML dump(!) with a current uncompressed size of 559MB. Considering XML overhead, the sum total of Canadian federal regulation is probably approximately equivalent to that of the United States.

The only thing that hates federal regulation more than libertarians is the bookshelf that has to hold it all. Image Credit: Coolcaesar on Wikimedia Commons

This isn’t it for either country; after federal regulation, there’s provincial/state and local regulations. Then there are the interactions between all three, with things becoming even worse when you want to do anything between different jurisdictions within a country or (and it’s a miracle this can even happen at all) between countries.

People who can hold a significant subset of these regulations in their head and successfully navigate them (without going mad from boredom) are a limited resource. Worse, they’re a limited resource who can be useful in a variety of fields (i.e. there has to be some overlap between the people who’d make good programmers, doctors, or administrators and the people who can parse and memorize reams of regulation). Limited supply and consistent (or increasing) demand drives the excessive cost of buying their time that I mentioned earlier.

This is the part where I’m supposed to talk about how regulation destroys jobs and how we should repeal it all if we care about the economic health of our society. But I’m not going to do that. The idea that regulation kills jobs is based on economic fallacies [2] and not borne out by evidence (although it is surprisingly poorly studied and new evidence could change my mind here).

As best we can currently tell, regulation doesn’t destroy jobs; it shifts them. In a minimally regulated environment, there will be fewer jobs requiring highly educated compliance wizards and more jobs for everyone else. As the amount of regulation increases, we should see more and more labour shift from productive tasks to compliance tasks. Really regulation is one of the best ways that elites can guarantee jobs for other elites.

Viewed through this lens, regulation is similar to a very regressive tax. It might be buying us social goods that we really want, but it does so in a way that transfers wealth from already disadvantaged workers to already advantaged workers. I think (absent offloading regulatory compliance onto specialized AI expert systems) that this might be an inherent feature of regulation.

When I see progressives talking about regulation, the tone is often that companies should whine about it less. I think it’s totally true that many companies push back against regulation that is (on the face of it at least) in the public good – and that companies aren’t pushing back primarily out of concern for their workers. However, rejecting the libertarian position doesn’t mean we should automatically support all regulation. After reading this, I hope you look at regulation as a problematically regressive tax that can have certain other benefits.

Because even taking into account its regressive effects, regulation is often a net good. Emissions standards around nitrous oxide emissions have saved thousands of lives – and Volkswagen cheating on them will lead to the “pre-mature deaths” of over one thousand people.

Corporations have no social duty beyond giving returns to their shareholders. It’s only through regulation that we can channel them away from anti-social behaviour [3]. Individuals are a bit better, motivated as they are by several things beyond money, but regulation is still sometimes needed to help us avoid the tragedy of the commons.

That said, even the best-intentioned regulation can have ruinous second order effects. Take the new French law that requires supermarkets to donate unsold, expiring produce to food banks. The law includes a provision indemnifying supermarkets against any legal action for food poisoning or other problems caused by the donated food. Without that provision, companies would be caught in a terrible bind. They’d face fines if they didn’t donate, but face the risk of huge lawsuits if they did [4][5].

Regulation isn’t just the purview of the government. If all government regulation disappeared overnight, private regulation – overseen primarily by insurance companies – would take its place. The ubiquity of liability insurance in this litigious age has already turned many insurers into surrogate regulators [6].

Insurance companies really hate paying out money. They can only make money if they make more in premiums than they pay out for losses. The loss prevention divisions of major insurers work with their clients, making sure they toe the line of the insurer’s policies and raising their premiums when they don’t.

This task has become especially important for the insurers who provide liability insurance to police departments. Many local governments lack the political will to rein in their police force when they engage in misconduct, but insurance companies have no such compunctions. Insurers have written use of force policies, provided expensive training, furnished use of force simulators, and ordered the firing of chiefs and ordinary officers alike.

When insurers make these demands, they expect to be obeyed. Cross an insurer and they’ll withdraw insurance or make the premiums prohibitively high. It isn’t unheard of for police departments to be disbanded if insurers refuse to cover them. Absent liability insurance, a single lawsuit can literally bankrupt a small municipality, a risk most councillors won’t take.

As the Colombia Law School article linked above suggested, it may be possible to significantly affect the behaviour of insurance purchasers with regulation that is targeted at insurers. I also suspect that you can abstract things even further and affect the behaviour of insurers (and therefore their clients) by making arcane changes to how liability works. This has the dubious advantage of making it possible to achieve political goals without obviously working towards them. It seems likely that it’s harder to get together a big protest when the aim you’re protesting against is hidden behind several layers of abstraction [7].

Regulation isn’t inherently good or bad. It should be able to stand on its own merits and survive a cost-benefit analysis. This will inevitably become a tricky political question, because different people weight costs and benefits differently, but it isn’t an intractable political problem.

(I know that’s what I always say. But it’s a testament to the current political climate that saying “policy should be based on cost-benefit analyses, not ideology” can feel radical [8].)

I would suggest that if you’re the type of person whose knee-jerk response to regulation is to support it, you should look at how it will displace labour from blue-collar to white-collar industries or raise prices and ponder if this is worth its benefits. If instead you oppose regulation by default, I’d suggest looking at its goals and remembering that the cost of reaching them isn’t infinite. You might be surprised at what a true cost benefit analysis returns.

Also, it probably seems true that some things are a touch over-regulated if $65,000 (or even $10,000) is an unsurprising estimate for a set of stairs.

Epistemic Status:  Model


[1] Of course, even unpaid overtime has a cost. After a lot of it, you might feel justified to a rather longer paid vacation than you might otherwise take. Not to mention that long hours with inadequate breaks can harm productivity in the long run.  ^

[2] It seems to rest on the belief that regulation makes things more expensive, therefore fewer people buy them, therefore fewer people are needed to produce them. What this simple analysis misses (and what’s pointed out in the Pro Publica article I linked) is that regulatory compliance is a job. Jobs lost directly producing things are more or less offset by jobs dealing with regulations, such that increased regulation has an imperceptible effect on employment. This seems related to the lump of labour fallacy, although I’ve yet to figure out how to clearly articulate the connection. ^

[3] In Filthy Lucre, Professor Joseph Heath talks about the failures of state-run companies to create “socially inclusive growth”. Basically, managers in companies care far more about their power within the company than the company being successful (the iron law of institutions). If you give them a single goal, you can align their incentives with yours and get good results. Give them two goals and they’ll focus on building up their own little fief within the company and explaining away any failures (from your perspective) as the necessary results of balancing their dual tasks (“yes, I posted no profits, I was trying to be very socially inclusive this quarter”).

Regulation, if set up so that it seriously affects profits (or if set up so that it has high personal consequences for managers) forces the manager to avoid acting in a ruinously anti-social way without leaving them with the sort of divided loyalties that can cause companies to become semi-feudal. 

[4] The end game would quite possibly involve supermarkets setting up legally separate (with significant board overlap) charitable organizations that would handle the distribution, and compelling these shells (who would carry almost no cash so as to be judgement proof) to sign contracts indemnifying the source supermarket against all lawsuits. This would require lots and lots of lawyer time and money, which means consumers would see higher food prices. ^

[5] Actually, higher food prices are pretty much inevitable, because there’s still a bunch of new logistics that have to be worked out as a result of this law. If the logistics turn out to be more expensive then the fines, supermarkets will continue to throw out food (while passing the costs of the fines on to the consumer). If the fines are more expensive, then food will be donated (but price of donating it will still inevitably be passed on to consumers). Any government program that makes food more expensive is incredibly regressive – it’s this realization that underlies the tax-free status of unprepared food in Canada.

Supplemental nutrition programs (AKA “food stamps”) have the benefit of subsidizing food for those who need it from the general tax pool, which can be based on progressive taxation and mainly paid for by the wealthy.

It’s really easy to see a bunch of food sitting around and realize it could be better used. It’s really hard (and expensive) to actually handle the transport and preparation of that food. ^

[6] Meaning that a government that really wanted to reduce regulation would have to make it rather hard to sue anyone. This seems like an unlikely use of political capital and also probably in conflict with many notions of fundamental justice.

Anyway, you should look at changes to liability the same way you look at regulation. Ultimately, they may amount to the same thing. ^

[7] This is dubious because it’s inherently anti-democratic (the government is taking actions designed to be opaque to the governed) and also incredibly baroque. I’m not talking about simple changes to liability that will be intuitively understood. I’m talking about provisos written in solid legalese that tweak liability in ways that I wouldn’t expect anyone without a law degree and expertise in liability law to understand. If a government was currently doing this, I would expect that I wouldn’t know it and wouldn’t understand it even if it was pointed out to me. ^

[8] Note, crucially, that it feels radical, but isn’t. Most people who read my blog already agree with me here, so I’m not actually risking any consequences by being all liberal/centrist/neo-liberal/whatever we’re calling people who don’t toe the party line this week. ^

Ethics, Philosophy, Politics

What use a Monopoly on Violence?

Remember Horseshoe Theory? It’s the observation that in many ways, the extremist wings of political movements resemble each other more than centrists or their more moderate brethren. We see this in anti-Semitism, for example. In any given week this year, you’re about as likely to see anti-Semitism come from Stormfront… or the British Labour Party.

I’ve been thinking about horseshoe theory in light of another issue: the police. Let me explain.

Like most denizens of the internet, I’ve been exposed to libertarians of various persuasions. One common complaint I’ve seen among these libertarians is a belief that the state has an illegitimate monopoly on violence. This is most frequently bundled with calls to abolish the police in specific and government in general. Now I see calls to abolish the police coming from the left.

I disagree strongly with calls to abolish the police. It’s not that I’m a great fan of the police: I’m a member of the Canadian Civil Liberties Union and I believe in strong checks and balances on law enforcement power. It’s just that one lesson we’ve learned repeatedly over the past century is that radical change to public institutions rarely goes smoothly. We should always remember caution when people suggest tearing up everything we already know without really planning for what will happen next.

So despite high profile incidents of unjustified police violence, I support the state’s monopoly on the means of violence. Beyond simple caution, here are my reasons.


Violence has been with us forever. War is rightfully one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, one of those four almost primal forces responsible for killing so many humans. Trying to reduce violence is important. But it isn’t the only fight. Any policy proposal sees diminishing returns. Beyond a certain point, effort that could be spent reducing violence could more effectively improve lives through other means (for example, by fighting malaria, or global warming).

We could reduce violence conducted by the state by abolishing the police. But state violence is a useful lever for other policy priorities. Trying to reach other goals (like economic equality or public order) are often worth some risk of state violence.

This process of trading-off must be undertaken by each body politic, as willingness to tolerate risk differs between countries. Canada, America, and Switzerland, for example, all have accepted higher rates of gun violence than other developed countries in exchange for more freedom to own and use firearms.

People generally have a right to own whatever they want to own. People also have a right not to be randomly shot. With guns, these two rights can be in conflict. The more people who have guns, the more likely I am to be randomly shot. Society has to come together and negotiate a trade-off between these two rights that they can (collectively) stomach. The weird thing about these negotiated trade-offs is that they can look ridiculous, even from inside of one (ask any American liberal how they feel about gun rights and you’ll see what I mean). It is certainly possible to have values such that no amount of firearm ownership is justifiable if it leads to deaths. Just as it is possible to have values such that no amount of intoxicant usage is permissible if it leads to death. [1]

Like intoxicants or guns, society must negotiate on the amount of violence it will permit. These negotiations are most convenient when they can be done with a single organization, or a single umbrella group. Consider, for example, the relative difficultly of abolishing the death penalty (one form of violence undertaken by states) in Singapore, America, and Syria.

In Singapore, abolishing the death penalty would be relatively simple (not to be confused with easy). There is one organization (the city-state) with an absolute monopoly on violence. To abolish the death penalty, lobbyists can focus their effort on one group of people. They will probably be opposed, because any organization who wishes to keep the death penalty will also know exactly who to lobby. This isn’t so much a strength or weakness as it is the endpoint of yet another negotiation. Singapore has chosen a system of government where people only need to worry about one set of rules. This is a sensible choice for a small, densely populated island without a lot of local variation.

In America, there are fifty-one authorities that must be lobbied in order to abolish the death penalty. Each state has a limited monopoly on violence solely within its borders (and therefore controls crime and punishment within them). But there is also a federal government that has a separate limited monopoly on violence, in this case, violence across state lines or against the union as a whole. In such a system, it is perhaps easier for opponents of certain types of violence to see them abolished in one region or another (see, for example, the death penalty in Massachusetts), but much harder to see it abolished across the nation as a whole.

I should mention that this isn’t just a matter of scale or population size. Canada is also a federal democracy, but the monopoly on violence is held solely by the federal government. Therefore, there was only one organization that had to be convinced to end the death penalty.

Imagine now trying to abolish the death penalty in Syria. You would have to negotiate with the Assad Regime, the Kurds, Daesh, Al-Nusra, and the scores of small rebel groups that hold and administer territory. Not only will you face difficulty in each negotiation, you will face difficulty even trying to negotiate, because there is no umbrella organization with the means to force smaller subdivisions of political power to allow you freedom of movement or guarantee minimum rights. This is a different situation than in America, where the federal government uses (what is ultimately) the threat of violence to ensure that states allow the free flow of commerce, ideas, and people.

A single organization (or set of franchises) with a monopoly on violence doesn’t just make it easier to target specific cases of violence. It can in fact reduce the overall amount of violence in a society simply by virtue of existing. This is the other reason that Syria sees much more violence than polities where there is an organization that holds a monopoly on violence. As long as no organization exists to use the threat of violence to force other actors to refrain from violence – to jealously guard its own monopoly on violence, as it is – then these actors will use violence in disagreements with each other.

In a civil war, the central government loses its monopoly on violence and other actors attempt to use violence to gain their own monopoly. We see the same pattern of increasing violence in the Mexican Drug Trade. Aggressive government enforcement broke cartel monopolies on local violence, allowing for various groups to fight to attempt to create their own hegemony.

In the context of police violence, having one group to negotiate with is extremely useful. It means that there’s only one battle to be fought. And in constitutional democracies, it gives reformers a powerful weapon by way of the court system. The courts may force (using the threat of violence) individual police departments to conform to certain practices. Imagine a country instead with only private security forces and a court system without access to the threat of violence. It would be impossible to enforce any rulings on these private security forces.

Abolishing the police will not abolish people’s desire for protection. Leftists should be scared of unaccountable private security firms. Anyone who loves peace and order should be scared of the conflicts between these firms.

17th Century Philosophy

There is a very short list of political philosophers whose works have shaped and guided revolutions. To have written works that inspire such drastic change in society doesn’t require or even suggest correctness. But it does suggest an understanding of the values that people hold closest to their hearts.

The 17th century English philosopher John Locke is on that list. I’ve written about Locke in the context of justice before, but his ruminations on the state of nature are also applicable here.

During Locke’s life, there was open debate among philosophers as to the “state of nature” – the shape human existence would take without government or laws. The state of nature was an artificial construct. It shares more with the ideal zero energy state used in molecular dynamics simulations than it does with prehistorical societies; it’s a baseline to compare political arrangements with, much as zero energy states are a baseline to compare molecular arrangements with.

Hobbes famously claimed that in the state of nature life was “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short” – a war of all against all. On the other hand, Jean-Jacques Rousseau believed that the state of nature was the only state of true freedom; to him it was much preferable to life in the eighteenth century.

John Locke held a different view. He believed that the state of nature was generally pleasant – in the state of nature, all people had the rights “to order their actions, and dispose of their possessions and persons, as they think fit, within the bounds of the law of nature.” These “natural laws” might be broken by some people, Locke reasoned, at which point all people would have a right to punish them for their transgressions (as you can see, Locke was a Christian philosopher and his work is riddled with references to The Almighty; a less religious appeal to natural law would be an appeal to the moral impulses that seem to be more or less universal).

Locke did see one problem with this set-up. In most cases, those most likely to pursue justice would be the aggrieved party. While Locke believed that natural law gave everyone a right to punish wrongdoers, he also believed that in practice punishment would come from those they wronged. Locke understood that people were imperfect and not always capable of mercy nor proportionality. So Locke reasoned that justice could not exist without society and the people society appoints to mete it out.

Locke’s judges would by necessity need some force of bailiffs to assist them. There is an enormous amount of practical tasks that need to be done for judges to do their jobs. Suspects must be apprehended and interrogated, witnesses interviewed, physical evidence collected, and crimes investigated. These tasks must also be undertaken by someone other than the aggrieved party for there to be any chance at fairness. This is where police come in.

I don’t believe that the police are the only thing preventing us from existing in Hobbes’s state of nature. People are basically good and just. But they are also flawed and imperfect, closer to monkeys than gods. I also don’t believe in Rousseau’s claims of an earthly paradise; institutions do too much good for me to believe that life would improve without them (although, had I lived when he did, I may have felt differently). Locke, Locke I believe got it right. Without government, most people would be good, help their neighbours, and continue as they always had. But some people would take what isn’t theirs or hurt others.

I’ve heard total equality bandied about as a solution to the problem of violence and theft in the absence of the police. The logic goes that if everyone had total equality, we wouldn’t need police. This isn’t a real solution. Inequality currently exists. There is no way to redistribute possessions that isn’t coercive. You’re not going to convince Peter Thiel to give away his possessions out of the goodness of his heart (he doesn’t have one, except in the literal sense). The only way to force him to give money away is through the threat of force. This is impossible without an organization capable of carrying through on that threat. All legislation, whether it’s criminal law, CO2 emissions targets, or consumer protection, relies ultimately on the threat of violence against those who don’t follow it. Redistributive legislation – taxation – is no different.

Perhaps we could achieve equality and then abolish the police. But equality is a disequilibrium. Even if all skills were equally in demand (they aren’t) and all people equally capable of work (they aren’t), innate differences in desire for work or possessions would remain. Some people would work more – and presumably be rewarded more – than others. Even at the height of collectivism in communist Russia, with private ownership of any means of production outlawed, people found ways to game the system or took to the black market to accrue wealth. Equality can’t last without someone to enforce it, violently if it comes to that. You can call these enforcers whatever you want, but they will always be essentially ‘the police’.

Leaving that problem aside, there is no evidence that equality would stop all crime. In a society that undergoes radical transformation, there would be sore losers, willing to fight to get their old power back. There would also be all the crime that has nothing to do with wealth or possessions. Equality can’t stop murders committed by jealous spouses, road rage, hate crimes, vicious bullying, and a host of other crimes that draw their motive from something other than worldly possessions.

So this society without police would have to deal with crime. John Locke’s theories on the state of nature show us how this would fail. Justice, if it could even be called that, would become a private good, available to those with the resources to pay for it (admittedly, not a problem if you’re violently enforcing equality) or the wherewithal to do it themselves.

But would it really be justice? If society wanted to maximize the number of wrongdoers it punished, then it wouldn’t bother with things like “reasonable doubt” or “right to an attorney”. One of the little discussed uses of the police is to make it look like things are being done whenever there is a scare around criminal activity, so as to prevent public panic. Police might authorize extra patrols not to protect the public, but to protect people matching the description of alleged criminals from vigilante “justice”.

Without the police, people would have to seek their own justice. And they’d do it poorly. Given that society (at least, every society I know of) is racist, can we really expect individual people to do it any better than the police? Imperfect due process (and I know the due process counts for far less when you aren’t white) is surely better than none. Without the police, people of colour face a nation of George Zimmermans.

Recent Statistics has looked at violent crime data out of Chicago after the video of Laquan McDonald’s murder was released. They found a (statistically) significant increase in violent crimes, correlated with a decrease in proactive police behaviour (here measured by a decrease in police patrols and stops). They weren’t able to tease out the root cause of the decrease in proactive policing (it could have been the release of the new video or an increase in the amount of paperwork officers now must do after interacting with the public). The increase in violent crime bucks seasonal trends and can’t be blamed on a warmer than average winter – winters even warmer than the last one have seen no large spike in deaths.

This should not be surprising in light of the earlier sections. When the police are proactive, it is clear that the state has a monopoly on violence and is willing to use it. But as the police retreat and arrests go down, we see both the effects of different groups competing to fill the void and reprisal killings (which are much more difficult when suspects are behind bars).

I don’t wish to say that the answer to all violent crime is more police patrols and more random stops. As the FiveThirtyEight article points out, there are costs associated with proactive policing. Sometimes police tactics labelled as proactive are also unconstitutional. Opposing unconstitutional police tactics – even if they reduce violence – is one of the trade-offs around violence I discussed earlier and one I strongly endorse. If alienation, segregation, and police violence is the price we pay for a reduction in violence through proactive policing, then I would believe it to be a price not worth paying. Some police tactics should be off the table in a free and democratic society, even if they provide short term gains.

But if, on the other hand, proactive policing saves lives without damaging communities and breeding alienation, then I would oppose rolling back these policies. One article in a newspaper – even one renowned for its statistical acumen – isn’t enough to drive public policy. More research on the costs and benefits of various policing programs, including controlled studies is desperately needed. To this end, the lack of a centralized police shooting database in the United States is both a national tragedy and a national disgrace.

A Legitimate State Monopoly Over the Means of Violence

The modern definition of a state acknowledges that it must have a monopoly on the means of violence within a territory. Without this monopoly, a state is powerless to do most of the things we associate with a state. It cannot enforce contracts or redistribute wealth. It cannot protect the environment or private property rights. I have yet to see a single serious policy proposal that adequately addresses how these could be accomplished without police.

This is all not to say that the current spate of police shootings is tolerable or should be tolerated. Free and open societies can and must expect better behaviour from those they empower with the ability to use violence in undertaking the aims of the state.

As citizens of a free and democratic society, we should continue to pressure our leaders to accept and perpetrate less violence. But we also must acknowledge that the bedrock our society is built on is the threat of physical force. This doesn’t make our society inherently illegitimate, but it does mean we must always be contemplative whenever we empower anyone to use that force – even if they’re people we otherwise agree with and especially when force is used primarily against the most vulnerable members of society.

We should fight for a society where the government holds only a legitimate monopoly on the means of violence. Where violence is used only when truly necessary and not a moment sooner. Where security forces are truly subservient to civilian leaders. Where police shootings of unarmed civilians are an aberration, not a regular occurrence. We aren’t there yet. But we could be.

Epistemic Status: Ethics

[1] Trade-offs between different rights are the proper territory of legislation and acknowledging this is separate from the harmful moral relativism that has infected leftist rhetoric on international relations. There is a distinct difference between trade-offs among competing rights and a fearful refusal to acknowledge universal and inalienable human rights.