Abstract: In a recent paper (Hardwick & Marsh, in press) we examine the recent tensions between the two broadly successful spontaneous orders, namely the Market and Science. We argued for an epistemic pluralism, the view that freedom and liberty (indeed the very concept of liberalism and civil society) exists at the nexus of a manifold of spontaneous forces, and that no single epistemic system should dominate. We also briefly introduced the concept of “iterative” knowledge to characterize the essentially dynamic nature of scientific knowledge. Herein lies a tension. The Market (and perhaps the prevailing culture at large) sees scientific knowledge in cumulative terms, that is, progressing to a conclusion in a linear fashion. This relatively static understanding of medical science as it relates to pharmaceutical studies can have a corrosive effect on the practice of medicine and ultimately, we believe, on the proper functioning of the market itself. In this paper we examine this tension in much closer detail by focusing upon the demands of the market, specifically the pharmaceutical industry, and the science upon which it is based. In other words, we expound upon a clash of epistemic value – one (science) that sees knowledge as essentially iterative (dynamic yet tentative) and the other (the Market) that harvests conclusive scientific knowledge (ostensibly as a fixed and firm commodity) functional to its own interests. Clinical Trials that are sharply focused with precisely determined deliverables often manifest this tension in the sharpest of relief. As a means of recovering drug development and testing costs, conclusive assessment is required to avoid creating serious financial problems for the companies themselves not to mention issues in the public interest.
Here’s my chum Ken McIntyre’s new book. Here’s a review as well. Ken did a lovely essay for Paul and my Oakeshott “Companion“, an essay entitled “Philosophy and Its Moods: Oakeshott on the Practice of Philosophy.”
Coming soon the first of three papers I’ve co-authored with Dave Hardwick, this one due in Advances in Austrian Economics, Vol. 17
ABSTRACT
Purpose/problem statement – The two most successful complex adaptive systems are the Market and Science, each with an inherent tendency toward epistemic imperialism. Of late, science, notably medical science, seems to have become functional or subservient to market imperatives. We offer a two-fold Hayekian analysis: a justification of the multiplicity view of spontaneous orders and a critique of the libertarian justification of market prioricity.
Methodology/approach – This paper brings to light Hayekian continuities between diverse literatures – philosophical, epistemological, cognitive and scientific.
Findings – The very precondition of knowledge is the exploitation of the epistemic virtues accorded by society’s manifold of spontaneous forces, a manifold that gives context and definition, to intimate, regulate, and inform action. The free-flow of information is the life-blood of civil (liberal) society. The commoditization of medical knowledge promotes a dysfunctional free-flow of information that compromises notions of expertise and ultimately has implications for the greater good.
Research limitations/implications – While we accept that there are irresolvable tensions between these epistemic magisteria we are troubled by the overt tampering with the spontaneous order mechanism of medical science. The lessons of Hayek are not being assimilated by many who would go by the adjective Hayekian.
Originality/value of paper – On offer is a Hayekian restatement (contra the libertarian view typically attributed to Hayek) cautioning that no one spontaneous order should dominate over another neither should they be made conversable. Indeed, we argue that the healthy functioning of a market presupposes institutions that should not answer to market imperatives.
Marking the loss of a musical giant – Levon Helm – this song’s lyrics has a form of the Lockean proviso (the song was written by Robbie Robertson):
Back with my wife in Tennessee, when one day she called to me
“Virgil, quick, come see, there go the Robert E.Lee”
Now I don’t mind choppin’ wood, and I don’t care if the money’s no good
Ya take what ya need and ya leave the rest
But they should never have taken the very best
Locke’s Second Treatise on Government, Sec. 27.
Though the earth, and all inferior creatures, be common to all men, yet every man has a property in his own person: this no body has any right to but himself. The labour of his body, and the work of his hands, we may say, are properly his. Whatsoever then he removes out of the state that nature hath provided, and left it in, he hath mixed his labour with, and joined to it something that is his own, and thereby makes it his property. It being by him removed from the common state nature hath placed it in, it hath by this labour something annexed to it, that excludes the common right of other men: for this labour being the unquestionable property of the labourer, no man but he can have a right to what that is once joined to, at least where there is enough, and as good, left in common for others.
In anticipation of a talk I’m giving later on in the week on Oakeshott’s so-called “dispositional conservatism”, here is a nice little piece by my chum Gene Callahan serving as a good introduction to RIP.
The British philosopher and historian Michael Oakeshott is a curious figure in twentieth-century intellectual history. He is known mostly as a “conservative political theorist,” although he rejected ideology and his conservatism was primarily temperamental. Furthermore, his work on politics was only a fraction of his output, which comprised idealist philosophy, aesthetics, religion, education, the philosophy of history, and even horse racing. His popularity reached its zenith in the 1950s and early 1960s, when he was well known on both sides of the Atlantic, appearing on the BBC and becoming the favorite philosopher at National Review. But he never seemed to seek popularity, and did little or nothing to boost his own when it subsequently faded. Today, despite the growing interest in Oakeshott since his death in 1990, even his best-recognized work, his essay “Rationalism in Politics,” is, I contend, not appreciated widely enough—thus, this article.
Lovers of liberty should keep Oakeshott’s work on rationalism in mind for at least two reasons. First, it offers a complementary but still significantly different critique of planning to those of Mises and Hayek. However, at the same time, it provides a warning to the advocates of freedom not to fall into the rationalist quagmire themselves. The relevance of the latter point is demonstrated by, for example, the tendency of many development economists, even those who are “market oriented,” to attempt to impose their theoretical schemes for taking a shortcut to westernization on some Third World country, while running roughshod over all the traditions, customs, and morals native to the place, which, whatever their short-comings, at least managed to sustain the society in question over previous centuries. Freedom cannot be “imposed” on a people according to some preconceived scheme. We all need to watch out for “the rationalist within.”
Yet more Oakeshottiana. Here is a brief review by Elizabeth Corey of The Meanings of Michael Oakeshott’s Conservatism (table of contents). Corey summarizes why Oakeshott’s supposed conservatism equally frustrates self-avowed conservatives and liberal critics: in the second excerpt she neatly captures the appeal of Oakeshott for someone such as myself. (See also another recent posting).
In a certain sense, then, to call Oakeshott’s thought “conservative” is to court danger; for it implies that some sort of common understanding of conservatism might apply rather straightforwardly to Oakeshott. It does not.
The heart of Oakeshott’s conservatism thus lay in both recognition and acceptance of the world’s imperfections. He hoped that we might see and appreciate the goods worthy of enjoyment, and that in addition we might know how to enjoy them. This was difficult, in his view, because it required that we put off or ignore our anxiety and aspirations for the future and engage fully in our present lives.
In this book, Luke O’Sullivan presents us with Oakeshott the philosopher and Oakeshott the political commentator. The philosophical Oakeshott is younger and committed to comprehending the ‘whole character’ of the subjects he examines. The political Oakeshott is older and less ambitious. Moreover, a note of world-weariness runs through his work. For he finds himself surveying developments that he considers unattractive.
We meet Oakeshott the philosopher in the essay from which O’Sullivan’s collection derives its title. In ‘The Concept of a Philosophical Jurisprudence’ (1938), Oakeshott bemoans ‘the chaos of modern jurisprudence’. He identifies the chaos to which he points as the upshot of ‘a number of different, mutually exclusive and unrelated types of theory’. This leads him to argue for a ‘philosophical jurisprudence’. He explains that such a jurisprudence is not ‘merely one among a number of unrelated explanations of law’. Rather it is an account of law that, in embracing a ‘hierarchy of explanations’ (e.g., analytical, historical, sociological), yields an authoritative account of law’s nature.
Oakeshott’s account of ‘philosophical jurisprudence’ contrasts sharply with a meditation on a prominent feature of the British cultural scene written eleven years later. In ‘The BBC’, the analysis is the work of Oakeshott the political commentator. He is critical of the ‘enterprise of evangelization’ in which he finds the BBC (at that time a monopoly) engaging. On Oakeshott’s account, the BBC exhibits a ‘schoolmasterish disposition towards its patrons’ which finds expression in ‘a severe and self-determined policy of social uplift’. He also notes that those to whom the BBC broadcasts are ‘never at a loss for an escape from [their] own thoughts’. These points lead Oakeshott to conclude that the power wielded by the BBC makes it ‘dangerous’.1
While politics came to occupy a place of prominence in Oakeshott’s mind as he grew older, his commitment to analytic precision remained a feature of his thinking. We see it in, for example, ‘Contemporary British Politics’ (1948). He is critical of the crudely majoritarian approach to democratic politics advocated by John Parker (a Labour supporter). However, he also finds fault with the alternative proposed by Quintin Hogg (a Conservative MP). For Hogg identifies ‘natural law’ as a basis on which to secure the interests of individuals. But Oakeshott dismisses Hogg’s argument on the ground that it fails to exhibit the clear-mindedness of others (e.g., Burke and Hegel) who have staked out similar positions.
O’Sullivan’s collection merits close attention, for it records the process of development that saw Oakeshott the philosopher become Oakeshott the political commentator.
Note 1
Recent analyses of the BBC by Michael Buerk and Peter Sissons exhibit family resemblances to that offered by Oakeshott (except that now a less nuanced vocabulary, e.g., ‘political correctness’, is doing the critical work). See M. Buerk, ‘Blowing the BBC’s Gaff’, Standpoint (April 2011).
