Browne Review

Turns out this Master’s degree lark isn’t that heavy a workload, and the Commonwealth games finished today, so I spent this evening looking through the Browne review into the future of Higher Education funding in England (Not Scotland though. Can’t help but feel a little burst of pride whenever ministers insist Scots are simply different to the free-marketeer Sassenachs).

To be honest, I’m not sure what exactly I think the solution is for Higher Education. The Scottish system where the state takes care of everything is simplest, and I’m inclined to say the best option. But, on the other hand, universal free tertiary education may well be subsidising the rich at the expense of those who do not go to university. I think a graduate tax is a plausible idea too, but it carries obvious difficulties in terms of its implementation.

Suffice to say that whatever the best option is, I have serious reservations about the Browne review’s. Here are my concerns/grievances with the report:

Public Funding of Higher Education

The report regularly repeats its concern that the quality and international competitiveness of English university education is under threat due to a lack of investment: “our competitive edge is being challenged by advances made elsewhere. Other countries are increasing investment in their HEIs and educating more people to higher standards”. Yet the authors do not seem to envisage much of a role for public funding in bridging this gap; they seem to expect the bulk of additional investment to come from tuition fees. This is despite the fact that the UK has among the lowest levels of public investment in higher education amongst advanced OECD nations - 0.6% of GDP (By comparison, Canada, Denmark, Sweden and Finland each spend 1.5% of GDP).

Some might believe this is as it should be, that the general taxpayer shouldn’t have to subsidise degrees that primarily benefit the student themselves. Indeed, this seems to be part of Browne’s reasoning, citing an OECD report which suggests that the private return of a university education is over 50% more than the public benefit. The NUS estimates that at a fee of £7000 students will be paying the equivalent of 170% of the state’s contribution.

Yet this figure includes only the monetary benefits of a university education, which the authors themselves accept are only a part of the positive effect: they refer to the reduced threat of crime, better health prospects and “higher levels of social contribution”.

Moreover, the report’s argument that it is the responsibility of students to fill the higher education funding gap only holds up as long as the government continues to pay its fair share. Yet its authors seem to have already conceded that public investment will be cut: £7000 fees are believed to be “roughly equivalent to what institutions will have to charge to maintain investment at current levels based on our assumptions about the reduction in HEFCE funding”. Yet this suggests that increases in tuition fees will do nothing to improve the relative under-funding of English universities – rather, it will simply compensate them for the money taken from them for the government. The result is that the Browne review – apparently by its own admission - seems to have done little to ease the problem it was convened to solve.

The Problem of Risk

Probably the biggest concern expressed by those that oppose the lifting of the cap on tuition fees is the impact on risk-averse students, who may be so concerned at the prospect of taking on large amounts of debt that they are discouraged from going to university at all. Further, the possibility (indeed, the likelihood) that different universities will charge different fees suggests that risk-averse students will be put off from applying to the more expensive (presumably higher quality) universities.

The Browne review’s line on this is borderline obtuse: “For all students, studying for a degree will be a risk free activity. The return to graduates for studying will be on average around 400%”. They are right to point out that, as investments go, going to university is both relatively safe and lucrative. But the point about risk-averse students, the reason that people are so concerned for them, is that they do not know this. How many people consult the economic data before making these sorts of decisions? The benefits of going to university are obvious if your parents or those around you have been or are going. But that is simply not the case for everyone.

If students are wary of taking on debt to go to university in the first place, they are likely to be all the more reluctant to consider taking on extra debt to go to the more expensive universities. It does not take a great leap of the imagination to foresee worsening access problems for the ‘elite’ Russell group universities, which already have a shoddy record on attracting students from less advantaged backgrounds.

Rejection of the Graduate tax

The Browne review claims to have fully considered, and rejected the NUS’ preferred solution, a graduate tax. Quite validly, they point out that their proposal preserves some of the attractive features of a graduate tax. As with a graduate tax, there are no upfront fees. As the report repeatedly observes, up front fees are the biggest disincentive for prospective students, so this is an important concession. Like the graduate tax, Browne’s proposals are progressive: those that benefit more financially from their degree will be required to pay more back. Yet the fact that graduates will be charged no more than the cost of their degree suggests that the proposal is less progressive than a graduate tax.

The authors suggest that a major drawback of the graduate tax is that it will not get enough money to universities soon enough to deal with the funding shortfall. Yet this appears a bit disingenuous: as they so proudly proclaim, both the graduate tax and their preferred scheme require the government to finance students in the short run. Indeed, while they condemn the graduate tax for overcharging rich students, they celebrate the possibility that the majority of students will not pay back the full value of their degree under their proposals.

Choice

Perhaps the most troubling feature of the Browne review is its repeated commitment to the principle of a free market in higher education. They look forward eagerly to a future in which “HEI s actively compete for well informed, discerning students, on the basis of price and teaching quality”. The theory is sound enough: good universities will be popular and expand, bad universities will be run out of business or taken over by their more successful rivals.

The first reason why this is troubling has already been discussed. If universities are competing in terms of price, then the more prestigious ones will have no reason not to price the less well off out of the market, with obvious implications for equality of access.

However, a deeper concern is the question of whether it is possible for universities to compete meaningfully for students in the first place. To draw an analogy, consider how competition works with restaurants. Good (or at least commercially viable) restaurants will be successful because they can attract people and convince them to return. Yet going to university is (for most) a one-off decision. Remember all the bad restaurants you have ever been to, and consider the implications of a market where all consumers have yet to sample the service they are buying.

I remember distinctly the grounds on which I decided to apply to the universities I applied to, and it was not the result of many hours of careful research. It was based on a couple of league tables and the general reputations of the institutions. The point about reputation is an important one: Browne et al want Oxford and Oxford Brookes to compete on a level playing field, but is this really possible when the Oxford brand carries such cache?

Strangely, the report pronounces prospective students as the most qualified arbiters of the quality of universities, despite openly admitting the difficulty of making such comparisons: “There is no ‘national curriculum’ for higher education. Looking at student outcomes by institution can be misleading as these reflect which students the institution selected as much as the value added by the institution”.

Admittedly, the report does emphasise the need for greater assistance to students in making their choice, but it is not obvious that the proposed help will make all that difference. Browne calls for more and better qualified careers advisers, but nobody can have the specialist knowledge on all courses and institutions to help everyone. The report suggests that statistics such as student satisfaction should be made readily available. But anyone who has filled in a student survey knows that results are not necessarily to be trusted (for instance, doing surveys online or at the last lecture of a series means only the keenest students will be canvassed).

Ultimately, there is little reason to share Lord Browne’s faith that students will be informed consumers. If these doubts are warranted, it suggests that the whole market that is to be established is open to distortion.

Maintenance funding

A crucial issue that is often overlooked in discussions of higher education finance is that of maintenance grants and loans. A large proportion of the cost of going to university is, after all, living costs such as food, accommodation and transport. The Browne review has insisted on retaining generous grants, and abolishing means testing for maintenance loans, so that all students are guaranteed an annual loan of £3 750.

I have to admit that I can see both sides of the means testing question. On the one hand, subsidising a loan to students from privileged background is effectively handing out money to the rich. Indeed, it is likely many families will simply put the money in the bank and collect the interest. Thus it seems logical to restrict maintenance funding to those who really need it.

The problem is that it is not that easy to distinguish rich students from poor students. Just because a student has rich parents, this does not mean we should assume that they will be supported generously by them. The Scottish government does assume a ‘parental contribution’ to student maintenance, the English funding system will not. Perhaps the easiest way to illustrate the drawbacks of means testing is to use myself as an example. As an undergraduate, I took as much support as I could from the government so as to minimise my dependence on my family. Under the Browne proposals would have had to take little money from them at all. As it was, I needed thousands of pounds of support from my parents. If we are to try to promote equality of opportunity, and to discourage children from hanging on to their parents’ coat tails, then surely they should be given the opportunity to support themselves independently?

Bequests

Browne et al bemoan the fact that “There is no established culture of giving to higher education in the UK. Only two UK universities have endowments of more than £1bn – Oxford and Cambridge – compared to over 40 in the US. Data from 2009 show that barely over 1% of alumni make gifts to their institutions”. They urge it should be made easier for graduates to give voluntary donations to their universities through tax relief.

Yet surely the institutions that get the highest bequests (i.e. Oxbridge) are those that least need the extra cash. It is invariably the case that the richest universities educate the richest individuals and families. Trying to replace state funding with individual donations (as in the US) will simply create a self-perpetuating cycle where a few universities prosper at the expense of the majority.

The Role of Business

“Businesses will not be compelled to contribute more – they contribute by rewarding graduates with higher wages.” The report acknowledges that businesses benefit greatly from enjoying a pool of tertiary-educated talent from which to select their employees. Yet it suggests that the incentive effect of the higher graduate wages they is a sufficient contribution from businesses. Yet it is surely the case that there is an externality effect here too. Businesses have a lot to gain from operating in a country with lots of graduates, in the same way as the rest of society gains. Therefore, it isn’t that implausible to expect a further contribution, as the NUS has suggested.

Postgraduate Funding

While the main focus of the review was the undergraduate system, it also touched on state of postgraduate education in the UK. On this, the report was remarkably complacent. Despite observing higher levels of uptake of postgraduate education among the well-off, the report simply concludes: “it is reasonable to suppose that access to postgraduate education is a function of the socio-economic make up of the undergraduate population”. In other words, fewer poor people do postgraduate degrees simply because fewer of them do undergraduate degrees. It suggests that improving access at undergraduate level will suffice to remedy the problem for postgraduate degrees.

This does not make sense. At postgraduate level, there are higher fees and less financial support. How can this possibly not affect the likelihood of talented students staying on for further study? I can say with absolute certainty that if I had been from a poorer background I could not have stayed on for a Master’s degree. I know I’m not alone. This suggests that access to postgraduate education is a much greater issue than the Browne review concedes.

Aberdonians: Ugly Women but Beautiful Heads

"Whenever I have occasion to classify the people I meet into three classes, 'good, medium, bad,' I use a needle mounted as a pricker, wherewith to prick holes, unseen, in a piece of paper, torn rudely into a cross with a long leg. I use its upper end for 'good,' the cross arm for 'medium,' the lower end for 'bad.' The prick holes keep distinct, and are easily read off at leisure. The object, place, and date are written on the paper. I used this plan for my beauty data, classifying the girls I passed in streets or elsewhere as attractive, indifferent or repellent. Of course this was a purely individual estimate, but it was consistent, judging from the conformity of different attempts in the population. I found London to rank highest for beauty; Aberdeen lowest."

"Mr Gladstone was amusingly insistent about the size of his head, saying that hatters often told him that he had an Aberdeenshire head - 'a fact which you may be sure I do not forget to tell my Scotch constituents.' It was a beautifully shaped head, though rather low, but after all it was not so very large in circumference."

- Francis Galton, Memories of My Life

On Martin Brookes' view of "The Morality of Charity"

Apparently, there’s been a fair amount of controversy surrounding Martin Brookes’ call for an independent ranking of charities according to worthiness. Brookes, the head of New Philanthropy Capital, an organisation that provides advice to charitable donors, made the comments in a talk this week. If you get a chance you should have a read of it - it's an interesting and provocative take on the state of giving in the UK. (Find the text here).

The main premise of Brookes’ argument is uncontroversial, but woefully neglected. Brookes rightfully bemoans the fact that all charities are too often lumped in together, with no appreciation of the variation in worthiness of the causes or effectiveness of the charities. Surely he is correct to insist that the distinction between giving well and giving badly is as morally salient as that between giving and not giving at all?

These are important issues, and Brookes should be lauded for trying to draw attention to them. If anything, I think he should be more aggressive in driving home the message about quality of giving. I sympathise with his concern that “criticising donors for not being ‘good’ or ‘moral’ enough” may be counter-productive. Yet I think he overestimates his own importance if he believes his criticism is going to have such a strong effect on people. The thing about moral criticism is that it is easy to ignore: ‘What does he know?’, ‘Who is he to tell me what to do?’. It is only likely to be effective if the person criticised recognises some validity in criticism, and incorporates it into their own worldview. So I think the important thing is to get people to consider the possibility that they are misguided in their approach to charity.

I think most people can agree that some charities are better than others. The difficulty is that they are unlikely to agree which ones precisely are the better ones. Brookes’ suggestion that causes are what ought to be ranked is problematic to say the least, since any such ranking is bound to be subjective and upset as many (probably more) people as it guides or helps. A league table of charities would have to decide whether animals should enjoy comparable moral status to humans, whether we have greater obligations to compatriots than to foreigners and what the precise constituents of human need are. All of these are questions that have divided moral philosophers for centuries, so any assumptions will be controversial.

Even if we agree on what our values are, it is far from straightforward to determine how best to promote them. Brookes seems to believe that donating money to fighting global disease is morally better than giving the money to Harvard University (even though much of the funding for medical research presumably goes to academics at universities like Harvard). Yet even money that is not ear-marked to directly benefit the neediest may in fact serve them better. Is it implausible to imagine that the money used to fund a scholarship for a development economist whose ideas lift millions out of poverty is better spent than tackling that poverty directly? If the goal is reducing human suffering, we simply cannot know which of our strategies is most effective for achieving that goal. Given this uncertainty, it is wise to encourage diversification, a combination of a high- and low-risk ‘investments’.

However, I think that the core idea of an independent comparison of charities is a good one. Perhaps it would be wiser to compare similar charities with similar aims in terms of their effectiveness. I think that there is certainly demand for more general information about charities, like efficiency and administration costs.

In any case, there is another complication. Brookes assumes (not unreasonably) that moral motivations are the basis for most charitable giving. Yet the statistics that he quotes clearly contradict this. Just 14% of American donors in the survey he refers to support the causes that they think constitute the greatest social good, compared to 23% who see charity as ‘repayment’ for ways in which they have been helped. Brookes sees this as evidence of the irrationality of donors, moved by empathy and testimony rather than consideration of hard facts and data.

This may be partly true, but I think that many donors are not irrational at all, but are simply driven by a mix of motives, of which morality is just one. The difficulty is that people tend to see all altruistic acts as morally good, and that a binary conception of ethics blinds us to the possibility that a morally good act can be ‘better’ or ‘worse’. Most moral systems laud altruism, so all else being equal we would praise a person for throwing their friend a lavish birthday party. We generally believe that it is good to put someone else’s interests first, and show the empathy and consideration that requires. Yet it is almost certainly true that the money spent on the birthday party would be better spent given to a worthwhile charity. However, if we were to challenge the person with the fact that they could have done more moral good with the same money, they would probably admit that moral considerations were merely one among many.

Again, we might be wary of the consequences of challenging people with the accusation that they are less moral than they appear. It is bound to upset and anger a few. The hope is that with the realisation of the good they could do, their consciences will do the rest.

Why Pay Is Not Just A Personal Matter

Urgh Libertarians. There's a shit-stirring article in the Guardian today by Andrew Lilico of right-wing think-tank Policy Exchange challenging the assumption that the state has any right to make pronouncements on whether individuals 'deserve' their wealth and income, and to use these views to redistribute according to desert.

Lilico does not seem to be challenging the coherence or utility of the notion of 'desert' in making moral judgements. If he were, I might be more sympathetic to his perspective. Lilico's objection appears to be to the state making moral judgements at all about the distribution of wealth in society.

I don't want to go into too much detail here, because I've already discussed these ideas in my blogpost about libertarianism. Lilico at least explicitly acknowledges that his argument rests upon prioritising the sanctity of private property above all other principles. Yet he seems not to anticipate the objection that this is a moral claim in itself. Lilico makes his argument as if all his premises are self-evident. But why should we insist that the protection of private property is more important than (say) advancing social equality?

The closest Lilico comes to defending this claim is his bizarre notion that property is natural, and does not depend on the state guaranteeing property rights. I fail to see how property can exist without property rights. To own something means that we can exclude others from it. If something is mine (as opposed to ours), it cannot be yours. But in the absence of the state, or some equivalent impartial body, there is nothing to stop you taking what is mine and claiming it to be your own.

In any case, even if it were true that even infants have a clear notion of property, this does not mean that property is good. And even if it were, the relatively plausible idea that property is good is not what Lilico needs to show for his argument. Rather, Lilico needs to demonstrate that property is some sort of supreme good, the protection fo which overrides other goods, like equality.

What They Say And What They Mean

So my grandfather was watching BBC parliament the other day, and we happened to come across this speech that William Hague made on July 1st, outlining his vision for the future of British foreign policy. It's a really good speech, sufficiently modest and realistic, but at the same time putting across a compelling programme for reform. Perhaps most interesting is Hague's criticism of Labour's lack of engagement with Europe - ironic that the words should come from a Conservative, but true enough.

The sad thing is that many of the words and actions of the Foreign Office since July 1st have failed to live up to his fine ideals. Here are the obvious examples that strike me:

“It is not in our character as a nation to have a foreign policy without a conscience or to repudiate our obligation to help those less fortunate. Our foreign policy should always have consistent support for human rights and poverty reduction as its irreducible core and we should always strive to act with moral authority, recognising that once damaged it is hard to restore.”

Really? Then why is Hague so keen to give authority to the national security council, which, according to a leaked Whitehall paper, insists that overseas aid "should make the maximum possible contribution to security" i.e. that development aid should be focused on achieving foreign policy objectives, rather than fighting poverty?

“This underlines the essential importance of the work of the British Council and the BBC World Service, which give Britain an unrivalled platform for the projection of the appeal of our culture and the sharing of our values.”

And yet a 'diplomatic insider' last week suggested that the BBC service to Burma is under threat: "The Burma office is up for grabs. It is a question of costs. It is very expensive and has relatively few listeners. The 'human rights' argument doesn't hold much sway with the new Foreign Office." Surely if there's anywhere that Britain wants to export its culture and values to, its Burma.

Hague has since denied that the World Service in Burma is in any danger, but it is the attitude his department has displayed, and the fact that it is willing to make cuts of 25% to the rest of the World Service that is worrying.

“we believe that we must achieve a stronger focus on using our national strengths and advantages across the board to help build these strong bilateral relations for the United Kingdom as well as complement the efforts of our allies, whether it is the appeal of our world class education system”

If the government is so proud of Britain's 'world class' education system, then why is investment in universities falling despite being among the lowest in the OECD?

And how is making it harder for foreign students to come to the UK exploiting this strength to build bilateral relations?

Admittedly, much of this is based on hearsay and speculation, but then after just two months in office, there's not much else to judge Hague on. However, it still seems worthwhile to note the government's failure so far to live up to the high foreign policy standards it has set itself.

Are The Poor Really More Charitable?

A fact that I’ve come across in a couple of different contexts in the last few weeks is that the rich give a smaller proportion of their income to charity than the poor. According to the most recent such survey by the Charities Aid Foundation (albeit from 2002), the bottom 10% of the income distribution gave 3% of their weekly household spending to charity; the top 20% just 0.7%.

It is certainly a fascinating finding. But I’m a bit wary of drawing the obvious conclusion, that the poor are somehow more virtuous and altruistic than the rich. There is some evidence that the poor are inclined to be more charitable: see Berkley psychologist Paul Piff’s recent research. Nevertheless, I am not convinced that this tells the whole story.

The crude data overlooks the fact that most people do not think about charitable donations in the same way as the study. Most people could give you a clear idea of how much money they give to charity (£10 a month, £200 a year), but few could tell you off the top of their heads what proportion of their income this constitutes.

This is significant. Imagine a rich person earning £100 000 a year were comparing their charitable activities with a poor person earning £10 000 a year. If the rich person saw that they were donating £700 a year, and that the poor person gave away £300, they would most likely see little cause for embarrassment, and little reason to change their behaviour. The chances are that they would never even realise that proportionately, the poor person is four times as generous. And that doesn’t even take into consideration that poorer individuals have to spend a higher proportion of their income on essentials, such as food and clothing. This means that their sacrifice is greater: the poor have fewer luxuries, but are still more willing to give them up than the rich.

Our ideas of our moral obligations owe a lot to how we see others behave, and to the expectations others have of us. The problem with charity, essentially, is that we are continually told that anything will do, being mightily praised for the merest contribution. Moreover, charities regularly request fixed contributions that have to be accessible to everyone. The result is that giving £2 a month leaves you feeling as if you have done your bit, regardless of whether it comes out of a monthly budget of £200 or £2000.

The answer, clearly, is to define more clearly what ‘doing your bit’ entails. In almost any other context, doing your bit involves making greater demands on those more able to bear them. There is no reason why charity should not be the same. How this is to be done is trickier: social and cultural change are invariably difficult to engineer.

Interestingly, the Conservative party’s policy paper on volunteering (downloadable here)identifies exactly this problem, and sees the solution as the ‘establishment of a pro-social norm’ of giving 1% of income to charity. They’re not particularly clear as to how they intend to achieve this (ruling out the government, of course: “in the post-bureaucratic age, governments should not first reach for legislation to pursue collective goals”).

I’m willing to be a little more candid about the difficulty of changing attitudes. However, publicising these figures and openly questioning the way we behave seem the only way.

Two Arguments Against Libertarianism

I’ve begun to notice that a common theme running through many of my blogposts is the assumption that there should be redistribution of wealth from rich to poor through progressive taxation. I would hope that the idea that the government is a legitimate tool for social reform or that those with a greater capacity to shoulder the burden of taxation should take on a greater share of the burden is obvious. However, the existence of libertarianism suggests that these principles need some defence.

Libertarianism is a broad and complex philosophy, and I cannot hope to cover it in any depth here. However, its basic tenets are straightforward enough: the state ought to be reduced to a minimal role of providing public goods (such as roads) that are not efficiently produced by the free market, and of protecting its citizens from crime and invasion (see Andrew Sullivan for a succinct outline)

Libertarians (like most passionate believers in any cause) easily lapse into hyperbole. Robert Nozick famously likens progressive taxation to forced labour: if we are forced to give up, say, 40% of our income to the government, it is equivalent to spending 40% of our labour time working for other people. Most libertarians accept the need for a state of some sort, but wish it to be limited to its ‘necessary’ functions, and demand that it stay clear of ‘social engineering’. Progressive taxation imports illegitimate moral values to the state; the only way around this is to impose an equal tax burden on everybody.

This line of thinking leads to unpleasant conclusions, which is why most people reject libertarianism. Yet if we are to reject libertarianism we need to know why. Any competing philosophy must find a response to the challenge of libertarianism: they must justify why it is legitimate to take money against a person’s will to spend it in a way they do not approve. In other words, they must demonstrate how, if at all, progressive taxation differs from common theft.

I can see two types of response to the libertarian’s challenge. The first justifies a certain amount of redistribution of wealth as entailed by libertarian principles. The second challenges these principles head on.

Almost all libertarians agree that it is necessary to have a state, so as to protect citizens and enforce freely entered contracts (libertarians appear to love contracts). Most also agree that the state is required to intervene in the case of market failures, where goods are not efficiently supplied by the free market. However, both of these functions can be interpreted to call for a rather more extensive state than most libertarians envisage.

Take maintaining law and order: the obvious means of preventing crime is to provide a police force which enforces the law by punishing those that contravene it. But this is not the only possible strategy. Ensuring high levels of employment and education could reduce frustration and material need, and so reduce the motivation to commit crime. Indeed, direct redistribution, especially benefits to prevent destitution, performs the same purpose. It is not immediately obvious that ploughing lots of money into policing and prisons and doing little to try and forestall reoffending is a more efficient way to cut crime than focusing on education and benefits. And if redistribution or the extension of the state into education are in fact more efficient, surely that commits the libertarian to these policies. Otherwise, they are left proposing a supposedly minimal, but actually inefficient government.

Suppose now, that the hard-ass strategy is more efficient than the bleeding-heart one. But only just. Let’s say benefits and jobs and education can cut a similar amount of crime to greater enforcement at a cost of 50p more per taxpayer. Wouldn’t most, if not all, taxpayers be willing to pay just 50p extra for a positive government policy that preserves law and order by making people’s lives better? Presumably each person has a ‘carrot premium’ – the amount extra they are willing to pay for criminality to be deterred by carrot rather than stick. Whose carrot premium is the decisive one? The lowest? The median? I imagine the consistent libertarian would have to say the lowest, since that is the only way that the expansion of the state beyond minimal limits is unanimously supported.

All this is further complicated by the fact that in real life, the choices are rarely as simple as I’ve made them out to be. There are usually multiple questions, multiple answers, and no clear binary distinction between answers (e.g. it is unlikely all of the law and order budget would go on either policing or education). As the choices become more complex and specialised, it becomes impossible for citizens to represent their views directly. People need to be employed to study all the relevant options, and to make the equity/efficiency trade-offs that most, if not all would assent to. This necessitates the employment of a whole raft of politicians and civil servants I am sure the libertarians would rather we did without.

Nevertheless, it remains unclear how far this saves redistribution from the assault of the libertarians. It is highly likely that a certain degree of redistribution is justified in the interests of everybody in society. Yet this may not justify redistribution on the scale of the welfare state, and in any case, redistribution may not be the most efficient way of achieving the goals of the libertarian state.

A more aggressive tactic against libertarianism is to challenge the premises it rests on. One of the major attractions of libertarianism is that it appears not to depend on moral premises. This is why libertarians can affect to take such offense at the ‘moralising’ of justifying redistribution in the interests of justice. Andrew Sullivan claims he doesn’t “believe that having a heart is what government should be about”. Yet if libertarians were really morally indifferent, then surely there would be no difference between taxing the rich and not taxing the rich. ‘Taxation is theft’ is not a neutral observation, it is a condemnation, a call to arms. The fact that libertarians believe that certain things are illegitimate means that they must have some values.

The obvious candidate is freedom (the clue’s in the name). But if libertarians really care about liberty then they must see that redistributive taxation actually increases it. Nozick’s famous point about forced labour, about the inability to enjoy the whole fruit of our toil, makes the relevant point about the restriction of freedom. But this is only half the story. Our freedom is measured by the size of the full set of activities that are open to us. The limitations on these activities come from numerous sources, natural and social: I cannot fly unaided because of gravity, I cannot run 100 metres in 10 seconds because of the limitations of my body; I cannot buy a mansion because of my poverty, I cannot steal a car because of the law. Nozick correctly picks out the limitation of freedom imposed by tax law. Yet he neglects the extension of freedom of money to the poor. Moreover, it is almost certainly the case that the marginal cost of freedom is increasing. £10 to a starving person buys them basic nutrition, and all the opportunities that creates. £10 to a millionaire simply allows them to buy £10 of extra stuff.

Alternatively, the value that libertarianism is founded on could be a belief in the sanctity of property. What is wrong with redistribution on this account is that it fails to protect legitimately acquired and transferred property (see Nozick’s ‘Wilt Chamberlain’ argument). The libertarian fixation with property is a bit strange. Of all the competing moral principles that humans have proposed, the imperative of respecting the belongings of others is hardly the most compelling or inspiring. There are a number of different justifications for protecting private property. Extrinsic justifications tend to emphasise the significance of property for freedom or happiness. Yet if property is merely a means to one or other of these ends, we need to ask whether these ends would not be better served through redistribution of wealth. I have already argued that the marginal cost of freedom rises; I reckon much the same is true of happiness. This is why we get the economic phenomenon of ‘diminishing marginal utility’: every extra pound we earn adds slightly less to our total sum of happiness.

I am not sure whether property can be justified as having intrinsic value of its own. I think that Locke derived property rights from some sort of covenant with God, but that theory holds little appeal if you don’t believe in God or don’t agree with that interpretation of Man’s relationship with God. Also, Hegel says some stuff about how property confers identity because of our need to realise ourselves by acting on external objects. Like most things Hegel says, it’s pretty difficult to work out exactly what he means. However, I’m pretty sure that this doesn’t mean that the government taking away our money strips us of our identity. And even if it does, if money confers identity, then surely the poor have a claim to developing their own identity?

These are all preliminary and sketchy thoughts (backed by embarrassingly little research). I might well have misunderstood libertarianism. However, I think I’ve worked out this much: libertarianism, whatever it says, does stand for something: freedom, property etc. And whatever that something is, I think that libertarians have either got their priorities wrong, or are mistaken in how best to promote their values. And that, so far, is my response to the challenge of libertarianism.