You Heard It Here First

Someone I know is moving to the Washington, DC area shortly and is in the process of applying for jobs in the belly of the beast. He was giving me a rundown of the places to which he had sent applications, and he also mentioned that if nothing else, he could work for a test preparation service like Kaplan. After all, he had spent much of his adolescent years performing well on standardized tests (e.g., SAT and GRE), and he could train a new generation of test-takers on how to ace (beat?) them.

At this point, I came across an idea: since such services cater to adolescents from middle- and upper middle-class families in which the pressure to succeed is high, why don't those services also offer a counseling component? One-stop shopping: a kid could take a test-prep class for a couple of hours and then see a couselor for talk therapy and/or a psychiatrist for medication. (This, of course, recognizes that depression, anxiety, etc. stem from both social and biological factors).

Unfortunately, this idea probably has a low probability of short-term success because it is too honest: Americans are not quite willing to admit that we put undue pressure on (middle-class) kids to "succeed," to jump through a certain number of hoops early on so as to avoid "failure" later in life. In addition, my co-worker said that parents are probably unwilling to admit that their kids' depression and/or anxiety might stem partly from bad parenting. That is true, and alas, I suppose that it would be unethical for a test-prep center/psychiatric clinic—eager not to offend their customers—to tell parents that their kids' condition stems solely from biology.

Nevertheless, since parents most likely are not willing to lower the bar for their kids, then we might have a moral obligation to provide said kids with a means by which to cope. I do believe that my idea has long-term merit, and I want to make sure to post it officially. Kaplan, be forewarned: When you start adding counseling and psychiatric services, I want my cut!

Happiness: A Response to Richard

My buddy Richard recently posted some comments. Here is my response to one of them.

My main purpose in defending the term "bourgeois" was to reframe it in a positive light. In other words, I wanted to encourage people (especially my friends on the Left) to recognize the value of a middle class mentality, at least in terms of facilitating economic growth and technological innovation.

On the other hand, I completely agree that whether a particular individual or society engages in bourgeois practice has no ultimate effect on whether that person or society is happy. Happiness, as Richard points out, is a relative (and ephemeral) experience, often determined by our "place" in the socio-economic pecking order.

This is why I have argued for the value of low expecations; rather than focusing on what others have, and rather than relying on high expecations (whether they are reasonable or not), it makes more sense to lower one's expecations to a level that one can achieve (or, better yet, surpass). Thus, rather than focusing on the fact that someone else has a BMW while I drive a Honda Civic (a shallow concern, to be sure) and rather than relying on the expectation that one day I will obtain a BMW (a shallow goal), I should lower my expecations — ultimately to the point of mere metabolism; by doing so, I increase my chances of being happy with my Honda Civic.

Thus, the social effects of the bourgeoisie and the condition of any given individual's happiness are two different issues. In my view, the best situation would be one in which the bourgeoisie foment economic growth and technological innovation in the aggregate, while any given individual severely limits his/her expectations. It's the best of both worlds (at least on a material level): maintaining low expecations in a robust economy that helps one to surpass those expecations!

Life, Politics, and Terry Schiavo

A co-worker came into my office this afternoon with the specific intention of asking me my views on the Terry Schiavo case. She knows that I'm a libertarian and was wondering whether I had a strong position, based on my ideology. Perhaps the fact that she didn't ask me how I felt theologically is an indication of my pathetically low level of external religiosity — then again, 'tis harder to find a libertarian than a Christian, which may make the former a more interesting—though less important—identity. ('Tis harder still to find a Christian libertarian!) My views boil down as follows:

On the less interesting question of Congress's (and President Bush's) attempt to force Ms. Schaivo's hospice to reinsert her feeding tube: it appears that such action was not only unconstitutional but laughably so. The Republicans have spent the past four years demonstrating that they truly have no concern for small government or states' rights, so this should come as no surprise. The US Supreme Court would be wise to tell the other two branches to butt out of a state-level issue.

Of course, this would not be an issue at all if Ms. Schaivo had completed a living will, laying out exactly what she wanted done in such extreme circustances as this. I certainly do not blame her: most 20- or 30-somethings, including myself, do not spend large amounts of time pondering end-of-life issues and thus, have not completed such paperwork.

Barring any official documentation, my external (read: untrained) legal eye leads me to believe that her husband is her legal guardian and thus, would have the right make the final call. He says that she would not want to remain in a persistent vegetative state, and thus, has been lobbying to remove her from life support.

On the other hand, since we do not have that official paperwork, the nagging questions remain: How can we be sure? Does he have ulterior motives? Even though Ms. Schiavo's husband is her legal guardian, such guardianship is not sovereign when it comes to matters of life and death. (After all, just because a parent serves as a de facto legal guardian over his/her child does not give that parent powers of life-and-death over that child.)

This brings us to the three most important questions in this debate: Is Ms. Schiavo alive? If so, how much obligation does the state have to keep her alive? What obligations would we have if we were in her situation?

It is clear that Ms. Schiavo is physically alive; she is metabolising. However, from what I have heard and read, it is unclear whether she is conscious (and as journalist Ronald Bailey has noted, one has yet to invent a "consciousness detector") — consciousness being the litmus test for determining whether someone is fully or "truly" alive. Then again, is consciousness a legitimate test for this matter? More provocatively, is consciousness a legitimate method for determining the whereabouts of one's soul? I duck these questions because at this point, I simply have no answer.

If Ms. Schiavo is alive, then how much obligation does the state have to keep her so? According to Slate's Daniel Engber, Florida's Medicaid system is paying for at least part of her care, which comes in at $80,000.00 per anum. Do Members of Congress consistently believe that taxpayers have an obligation to keep alive any citizen, who (a) has no official documentation as to his/her end-of-life wishes and (b) has no assets by which to pay for indefinite life support? If another person brought a similar case to the public's attention, and Congress did nothing to act, then its moral consistency should be called into question (and its use of Ms. Schiavo as a political football would be even more obvious than it already is).

Finally, what are our obligations if we find ourselves in a similar situation? One can believe that for practical reasons, the state should not criminalize suicide, while also holding the view that suicide is morally wrong. However, is it just as immoral to refuse care at the end of life? To tell a physician that one is unwilling to go another round of chemotherapy? To tell one's family members that he/she just wants to spend his/her last days at home or in a hospice? When we refuse treatment or, more basically, life support, are we just as guilty as the one who hangs him-/herself?

For some reason, most people make a distinction between suicide and refusing treatment. Perhaps it is because the former is an active taking of one's life, while the latter leaves open some small space for a miracle. After all, suicide is inherently intentional; refusing treatment is seemingly more passive, more watchful, and perhaps more hopeful.

Unfortunately, I don't have any solid answers for my co-worker. I haven't examined these issues as much as I should. I've been preoccupied by other pursuits!

Institutionalized: A Response to Public Theologian

Public Theologian responded to my most recent entry regarding the term "bourgeois." Of particular interest was the following comment: "Of [course] I don't share your unabashed love of capitalism. I have read enough of Reinhold Niebuhr to be suspicious of markets as simply innocent progenitors of prosperity. Being a theological descendant of Calvin, I think that libertarians aren't very realistic about the evil that unchecked institutions can inflict on the rest [of] us."

On the contrary, libertarians probably have the most realistic view of institutional abuse. Libertarian distrust of the state stems from both theoretical recognition of—and empirical evidence regarding—the abuses (both intellectual and moral) that stem from the state's monopoly on "legitimate violence."

And what about the "institution" of the market? First of all, a truly free market would least likely resemble an "institution," since at their heart, free markets are merely voluntary associations — dispersed, varied, and difficult to homogenize.

Second, allowing for the nomenclature at hand, the market as an institution does a remarkable job of channelling (not eliminating) self-interested behavior, one of the evils that would concern Public Theologian. People are sinful and will remain so until the Eschaton, and sin is usually manifested in self-interest. The market, if one will forgive the anthropomorphism, "recognizes" this reality and channels self-interest into productive and relative beneficial activities.

Finally, an honest libertarian would readily admit that free markets are not perfect. People remain sinful, poverty still exists. I would not say that I have an "unabashed love of capitalism," but I recognize that free markets do a relatively good job of facilitating productivity, distributing goods and services, and increasing standards of living globally — better than any socialist or "Third Way" system could.

Besides, if Public Theologian is concerned with unchecked institutions, then how does he propose that we check the institution of the state? Is not the market, with its propensity for decentralization and innovation, the most effective method of countering the homogenizing, authoritarian tendency of government?

In Defense of "Bourgeois"

A few months ago, I wrote to a friend of mine and argued that the term "bourgeois" needed to be salvaged for positive use. Here is a modified copy of that original message.

Basically, it appears that there are two ways to grapple with what is bourgeois, both of which are covered by a standard dictionary definition (in my case, Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary [10 ed.]). Method 1 leans towards the empirical. If one wants to find a member of the middle class, then he/she needs to decide what income constitutes "middle class" (arbitrary as that may be) and determine how many members of a particular country/region fit that bracket.

Method 2 leans towards subjective judgment. For whatever reason, many Americans (even those who are bourgeois) believe that being "marked by a concern for material interests and respectability" is petty and that to be "dominated by commercial and industrial interests" is shallow. As we know, the use of "bourgeois" as a derogatory epithet stems mainly from the Left — something with which I am familiar from past experience.

As I am now a libertarian, I have re-examined the term "bourgeois" and have come to the following conclusions:

1. Both historically and currently, the bourgeoisie help to further capitalism. The aristocracy never had an interest in fomenting free markets, and peasants did not have the purchasing power to foment technological and logistical innovation. Thus, the middle classes, with their productive capacities and desire for material improvement/comfort, were (and remain) the main engines for capitalist development.



2. It is true that a concern for "respectability" would not be regarded favorably by many libertarians, since such concerns could lead to attitudes that discourage innovation and, well, liberty. However, as with many concepts, the meaning of "respectability" can be broadened and diversified. It is possible that the embrace of innovation (e.g., new technologies) could be considered a sign of a
   new middle-class mentality.



3. Who defines "bourgeois" anyway? While some in the U.S. would say that Whole Foods is pretentious, those from other cultures would consider a basic, run-of-the-mill supermarket to be bourgeois. While my Honda Civic would be considered relatively modest in the U.S. (it’s not a Mercedes or BMW, after all), others would consider it a luxury. Conceptions of wealth and poverty are almost always relative; the standards are arbitrary and shift constantly. Thus, to deride someone as "bourgeois" is ultimately ephemeral; today’s upper-middle class is tomorrow’s lower-middle class (at least materially).

Thus, I am going to try to stop using "bourgeois" and "bourgeoisie" in a negative sense. (Perhaps I should start a campaign to have them reinstated as positive terms!) If someone is arrogant, selfish, or shallow, then he/she should be called (and critized) as such. However, that person should not be categorized as "bourgeois" for there is no shame in being middle-class!

Are Doctors Corrupt? Should We Care?

As some of you know, one of my interests is continuing medical education (CME), mainly because I have worked on-and-off in the field for the past several years. One of the main topics that comes up within CME—and medicine generally—is the presence of pharmaceutical influence over physicians' prescribing behavior. Influence, of course, must be bought, and if one visits a typical American hospital or medical center, he/she will soon notice the presence of pharmaceutical paraphernalia (pens and sticky notes), free drug samples, and sales reps peddling their wares directly to physicians, nurses, and anyone else who will listen.

Pens and free samples seem relatively harmless, and the latter actually can benefit low-income patients. However, the stakes climb higher when we hear of sales reps treating physicians (and their spouses) to steak dinners, theater productions, and (at the top of the scale) free trips to resort locales (occassionally disguised as opportunities for "professional development").

When these instances of influence peddling (bribery) make the news, we subsequently encounter the inevitable reactions: Members of Congress promise to hold hearings, professional ethics guidelines are introduced, and Big Pharma goes on the defensive. However, these stories often don't ask the simple, most important question: Are doctors corrupt, and if so, should we care?

If you want to offend any given physician, a good tactic would be to impugn his/her integrity by stating that he/she is in bed with Big Pharma. Perhaps the physician's financial connections come in the form of the goodies mentioned above, or perhaps he/she receives research grants from companies or serves on well-paying speakers' bureaus / "advisory" panels.

In any case, I would hypothesize that implying any sort of improprietary, regardless of the nature of the relationship, would invite an angry retort from the physician. "Just because I receive grant money from ABC Pharmaceuticals doesn't mean that I cannot review medical research objectively!" "Are you saying that I'm prescribing more XYZ medications because the sales rep bought me dinner? Do you think I'm that cheap?"

Of course, whether these financial connections actually influence prescribing behavior is an empirical question. I have heard that they do, but that is not the main question I'm asking here. Rather, for the sake of argument, let's assume that pharmaceutical companies do successfully bribe the medical profession, that their influence peddling does make a material difference in prescribing behavior (i.e., that if they did not engage in such practices, fewer brand-name prescriptions would be written). Should we care?

Public indignation at such practices primarily stem from two emotions: envy and betrayal. Physicians, despite their complaints about being nickel-and-dimed by HMO's, are still well-compensated for their knowledge and expertise. When we hear that these well-heeled professionals are getting extra goodies (steak dinners, ski trips), we feel indignant at yet another example of the haves taking huge chunks of the pie. This is simply envy, and on both theological and philosophical (libertarian) grounds, I do not regard it a legitimate basis of critique. Remember: physicians are well-compensated because they generally know much more about medicine than the average person.

This brings me to betrayal. If a physician writes more prescriptions for XYZ medications because he/she is being bribed by Big Pharma, then we feel as though our trust has been violated. We feel as though the doctor doesn't care about us, the patients, but rather is more interested in the lucre. While the feelings of betrayal are understandable, they stem from three ill-conceived presuppositions about contemporary medicine:

1. Trust: While trust in many other professions (e.g., accounting, law) has eroded in the past several years/decades, many still hold onto to the belief that we should "trust" our physician implicitly. Granted, this trust, too, has been eroding recently with greater public access to medical information (e.g., anyone with an Internet connection can surf WebMD and then go to the doctor's office armed with questions and alternative therapies), but I hypothesize that we still trust the profession of medicine more than, say, politics.



2. Professionalism: We are under the mistaken impression that professionals are somehow both intellectually and morally superior. Physicians are not supposed to engage in the grubby give-and-take of, say, stock traders or car sales. Rather, they are supposed to rely on their training, examine "all of the evidence," and make judgments based on precise reasoning and sound moral guidance. This, of course, is silly. Professionals are humans, suceptible to the economic pressures and moral conundrums that the rest of us face on a daily basis. When we see a doctor, we should see him/her as a human being — smart and well-educated, for sure, but nevertheless human.



3. Body Obsession: Finally, our sense of betrayal stems from our mistaken assumption that the human body is not a mere commodity, that it is something more and thus, should be treated with the utmost gravitas by any health professional. Unfortunately, our bodies are commodified goods, and we treat them as such every day. Do not our bodies carry our minds and our very "selves"? Do we not use them for work and pleasure? Perhaps we are theologically mistaken to give so much moral weight to the body. (The theologian Stanley Hauerwas has remarked that the best and the brightest in our society attend Medical School, rather than Divinity School, because we are more concered with training competent doctors than competent priests/pastors/ministers; in other words, we are more concerned with the health of our bodies, rather than the health of our souls.)

So, are doctors corrupt? I'm sure that most of them are people of integrity, who care about their patients, blah, blah, blah. I'm sure that the most egregious cases of corruption stem from the "few bad apples," etc., etc. That is not the most important question. Rather, should we care? I argue no. If we maintain a healthy skepticism of all professionals, do a little bit of our own research, and eschew body obsession, then the question of corruption fades into irrelevance.

Standards of Living

Journalist Ronald Bailey has just posted an excellent article regarding the increasing standard of living around the world, including (and especially) among the poorest countries. Critics of globalization would do well to read it.

DVD Review: Apt Pupil

This movie really should have been called Inept Pupil. I watched it last weekend, and as the days roll by, my opinion of it keeps sliding lower and lower; out of fairness to the director (Bryan Singer), I should post my review now before my views deteriorate even further.

In our movie, Brad Renfro plays Todd Bowden, a supposedly bright, straight-A high school senior who develops a fascination with Nazi history after his social studies class covers the Holocaust. (He begins spending inordinate amounts of time on extracurricular reading regarding Adolph Hitler et al.) One rainy night, he spots a man on a bus in his California town who looks very similar to a figure he came across in his studies ("contrived" doesn't begin to describe this). After a month of painstaking research, he concludes that the man is indeed Kurt Dussander (Ian McKellen), a Nazi fugitive who has been on the lam for decades.

Now, does our apt pupil call the local police or the FBI? Does he just forget about his obssession and go back to getting straight-A's and playing baseball? He does neither; rather, he decides to visit Dussander and blackmail him into giving him all the gory details about the Nazis' prefered methods of torture and death. By getting Dussander to talk, Bowden thinks that he's getting the real deal: all the first-hand accounts that he can't find in stuffy academic books.

This is when we realize that Bowden is not so apt, after all. What does he expect to learn by fulfilling his macabre fascination? Does he think that it will help him to become an adroit historian or political philosopher, theorizing about the nature of evil and totalitarianism?

After several months of listening to Dussander's graphic detail, Bowden, of course, begins to snap (and this is where this "thriller" gets "psychological"). He constantly thinks and dreams about death camp victims, his grades slip, he starts to draw swastikas in his notebook, etc. He is also, of course, over his head, as Dussander connives his own retaliatory blackmail scheme.

I certainly won't spoil the ending, but just believe me when I say that there is nothing shocking about it. If memory serves me correctly, part of the original marketing for the film implied that there would be something icky or psychologically disturbing at the end (that's why my wife didn't want to watch it; call me desensitized, but I found nothing of the sort and felt cheapened and deceived.

Besides the stupidity of the character of Todd Bowden, I was not at all impressed by Brad Renfro's performance. Apparently, Bryan Singer was trying to cast someone who looked fresh, innocent, and full of curiosity (the apt pupil). However, in Renfro's performance, we get someone who is not just fresh, but vacuous, lending no personality to Bowden at all. At the end of the movie, I just got the impression of an inept, souless, narcissistic kid, who loses all of his moral fiber while gaining no panache (if one is going to become evil, he at least should have some flair).

What made this movie tolerable was Ian McKellen's performance as Dussander. The man who gave us Peter Jackson's vision of Gandalf does a fine job of portraying a drunk, washed-up Nazi. However, both Singer and Brandon Boyce (the screenwriter) do not give us any interesting insights into the man. Why did Dussander join the Nazis? Was he merely one of the drones doing the bidding of his superiors, or was he an ideological stalwart? How does he feel now about non-whites? Besides some sloppy attempts at psychological interpretation (e.g., a clumsy scene where Dussander nearly roasts a cat...I think that's supposed to be sadism, right?), Singer and Boyce give us no depth behind Dussander. Given the slipshod script he was given, McKellen did an admirable job.

In short, Apt Pupil is not worth your time or your money. While part of me wants to "ruin" the ending so you won't bother seeing it (though, as mentioned, the ending is not worth keeping secret), I will hold my tongue. Final Score: 5 out of 10 (it would have been less had it not been for McKellen).

Guilty Pleasures

Today, I watched the UNC-Duke basketball game, held at the Dean Dome in Chapel Hill. (Fortunately, UNC won by two points.) I would consider myself a moderate or tangential fan: While I try to follow the progress of the Heels via evening newscasts, I usually don't watch regular season games (and not many post-season contests, for that matter). A few years ago, I tried to watch more games and to get more "involved" as a fan, especially since I live in this bastion of basketball greatness; however, my attempt at Tar Heels fanaticism occured during the brief tenure of Matt Doherty, the coach who was quickly fired after a couple of disastrous seasons. Watching the team at that point in time proved too painful, and I quickly lost interest.

Now that the Heels are back at the top, I still find it hard to move beyond my "moderate/tangential" fan status. However, this time, my reasons stem from justification (or the lack thereof); I simply cannot justify spending time watching college basketball. I always have something else more productive, more edifying on my plate, whether it be a chore, catching up on my reading, or posting on my blog (though some would argue that the latter is of dubious value).

Yet, I sometimes watch "special" games such as today's clash. As my wife can testify, I even care about these games, yelling at the refs when they make calls antithetical to the Heels' interests. How do I justify this occassional wallowing in pedestrian pursuits? By simply calling it a "guilty pleasure."

When we label something "guilty pleasure," we do not obfuscate its negative attributes; we acknowledge that deep down, in some way, the activity is "bad" and probably not the most edifying use of our time. However, we also imply that the activity is both relatively "harmless" (i.e., the probability of permanent damage is minimal) and somehow irresistible. I know that watching an occasional UNC basketball game is not the "best" use of my time, but I do not foresee it as permanently damaging my intellectual or moral life; I also find the excitement "irresistible" because so many other local residents get caught up in it (unfortunately, spectator sports has an almost inevitably fascist aesthetic about it). If I were to spend all of my time focused on college basketball, then it would move from the realm of "guilty pleasure" to that of "obsession," something not so harmless, something nearly impossible to justify.

For the moment, I will allow myself the occassional viewing of our current, tempered manifestation of gladiatorial combat, a "guilty pleasure" that perhaps allows me to blow off some steam. Upon leaving North Carolina, it'll be interesting to see whether my interest in Tar Heel basketball goes with me, or if this is merely a passing fancy, a byproduct of geographic circumstance.

DVD Review: Fearless

It's time to take a break from merely responding to others' blogs and to write something original. Last night, I had an odd cinematic experience in the form of Fearless, the 1993 Peter Weir film starring Jeff Bridges, Isabella Rossellini, and Rosie Perez. Bridges plays Max Klein, a San Francisco-based architect, who has a near-mystical experience as the plane in which he is traveling loses control and begins spiraling towards the ground. He suddenly develops a serene mindset and a confidence that this would not be his day to die. He leverages this confidence in order to comfort his fellow passengers, and when the plane does crash, he guides the survivors to safety and earns a reputation as a Good Samaritan.

Most of the movie explores how Klein attempts to deal with both his mystical vision and his survival of the crash. On the one hand, he feels invincible: He stared death in the face and lived to tell the tale. As such, he feels estranged from his old relationships (e.g., his wife, Laura [Rossellini]); since they have not "overcome" death, then they clearly cannot share in his heightened state of consciousness.

Klein also develops an odd relationship (affair?) with a fellow survivor, Carla Rodrigo (Perez), who lost her two-year-old son in the crash. Rodrigo, a Roman Catholic, struggles with her guilt and her faith, finding therapeutic camraderie in the agnostic/atheist Klein.

This camraderie seems to form the crux of Klein's post-crash existence, as his raison d'etre becomes helping Rodrigo. At the same time, however, we learn that he is grappling with his own unfinished business with God; his agnosticism/atheism appears to serve merely as a front for a deeper theological struggle. He did have a vision, after all; he did survive the crash; and he seems to be living in a quasi-mystical state. From where could that come but the Divine?

I have two relatively minor critiques of this film. First, I occassionally felt that Weir was trying too hard to make a "deep" movie; his presentation of themes felt a little overworked. (This may be a pattern: Another film in which Weir "tried too hard" was The Truman Show.) Secondly, while I sensed that he was trying to be deep, I couldn't pinpoint what, exactly, Weir was trying to say (hence, my "odd" feelings about the film). I don't know much about the man, so I couldn't tell whether he was making an explicitly theological statement or was just talking generally about "spiritual" things.

Nevertheless, even though it is not a brilliant piece of cinema, Fearless is thoughtul and definitely worth your time and money. Final Score: 7 out of 10.

P.S. While Jeff Bridges produces a solid performance in this film (not brilliant, but solid), we all know where to find the true pinnacle of his acting career!

Abolish Politics: Response to Dignan et al

Dignan recently responded to Public Theologian's claim that Democrats held a moral high ground over Republicans. Here are my two cents.

Neither Democrats nor Republicans hold a moral high ground, and debates between the two parties are meaningless, since both support massive government spending. Democratic complaints about Republican cuts in domestic spending ignore the fact that said cuts are relatively small. Republicans' traditional claims of favoring small government are contradicted by the runaway spending (for both foreign and domestic "projects") that we have seen under Bush's watch. One of the most egregious abuses of the public purse is, of course, the Medicare prescription drug benefit, a financial boondoggle that Bush shamefully refuses to modify (or abolish).

The problem with partisan debates is that they do not deal with ideology but rather, with loyalty (to one's own party) and slander (against the other side). Truly robust political debate would involve philosophy, theology — in short, ideas. We should be talking in philosophical terms about how best to help the poor, whether war is ever justified (and if so, in what context), etc.

I appreciate Dignan's concerns about the harshness of contemporary political discourse, but the remedy is simple: eschew formal, partisan politics altogether. It is politics—the quest for power—that corrupts public life.

Response to Public Theologian 2

Public Theologian responded to my response (3/2/05). Here is the next round.

I very much disagree. It is true that capitalism is not a mechanism for the creation of equality. However, should equality be the ulitmate goal of public policy? If technological innovation and greater productivity lead to more goods and services at lower prices, is not everyone better off, despite levels of inequality? (The CDC just reported that life expectancy in the United States is the highest that it has ever been. Is that not a sign that living standards in this relatively capitalist society of ours remain high?)

In terms of access to health care, I suggest that the problem stems not from a lack of even more public funding but rather, over-regulation. Specifically, I refer to Duke University's Christopher J. Conover, who argues that the over-regulation of health care "places a net burden on [American] society of $169.1 billion annually" and that "health care regulations induce approximately 22,205 deaths annually." If we want more health care, then we should deregulate the industry and allow care providers (suppliers) to meet the demands of patients (consumers).

Finally, the plight of the poor is not exacerbated by the market but rather, by inefficient and corrupt governments. Case in point: farmers in the developing world are not harmed by the free market but by European and American subsidies to domestic agricultural interests, subsidies that erode poor farmers' ability to sell their products on the global stage. In this example (among others), a freer market would help to "amerliorate the plight of the marginal."

Community: A Response to Dignan et al

Dignan's most recent entry concerns the issue of "Rediscovering Community." Here is a copy of my response to that discussion.

The concern over "community" is misguided. We are not witnessing a vanishing of community for the simple reason that humans are social creatures. We want to be with others. Rather, we now have opportunities to define community in a variety of ways. Instead of being forced to associate solely with members of my own village (as would be the case in the Middle Ages) or solely with citizens of my own country (as would be the case before the growth of international communication and travel), I can associate (create community) with seemingly anyone. In fact, blogging itself has made the construction of community even easier.

Critics may argue these vitual interactions are somehow "artificial," but they ignore the fact that these interactions are completely voluntary, faciliated by people who want to communicate (and be in community) with others. For an example of truly artificial attempts at community, one should look at zoning regulations that forbid people from interacting in ways they see fit.

Response to Public Theologian

The blogosphere is alive and well! Public Theologian responded to my comments on Dignan's entry, "Agreeing to Disagree." Here is a copy of my response to the response. (It's true: I have nothing original to say; I only can respond!)

In regards to the power of corporations, I am reminded of an idea I first encountered when reading the social theorist Craig Gay. If I remember correctly (it has been several years), he mentioned that the major difference between those who favor capitalism and those who oppose it stems from their views regarding private power. Those who favor capitalism tend to believe that private power ebbs and flows: sometimes, a limited number of actors will hold lots of economic power, while later, said power get dispersed due to innovation and competition. Those who oppose capitalism see private power as remaining centralized.

Since I tend to side with the former view (private power ebbs and flows), I generally do not see a need for a large state, which itself is more likely to hold onto power and not let go.

In terms of living with others (particular fellow Christians) who hold different views, I wholeheartedly agree. We should make every effort to demonstrate the grace and humility of Jesus with all of our neighbors, not just fellow believers. However, there does come a point when unity becomes logistically impossible. If one half of a congregation supports the ordination of a gay pastor and the other half does not, and if both sides hold this as a defining issue, then the division within the congregation is, by defintion, irreconcilable. While sad (and certainly not ideal from a Biblical perspective), is it not better to give people the freedom to go their separate ways peacefully? What other option—besides coercing someone to remain part of a congregation with which he/she has fundamental disagreement—is there?

Getting Along: Response to Dignan

Okay, I was wrong: I do have an entry to post. Dignan recently published an entry titled, "Agreeing to Disagree," and below is a copy of my response:

Actually, the main problem stems from the size of the state. Because government has taken on an increasingly large (and intrusive) role in our lives, those on opposite sides of political debates have a lot more at stake. It's one thing to disagree with someone who has no real way to coerce you. However, with elections serving merely as cover for political actors looking to gain power over others, disagreements become more materially meaningful. If A and B disagree on a particular issue, and A gains political power, then he/she can wreak havoc on B's life (e.g., by forcing B to fund projects that he/she finds objectionable).

The only solution is to lessen the power of the state. Thus, A's disagreement with B would remain rhetorical and not manifest itself materially.

Finally, I disagree with Public Theologian's critique of separatism. True social and political freedom comes from the ability to exit, especially from situations or organizations that compromise our core beliefs. While Christians should be unified, the sad reality is that our sin will continue to block that ideal until the Second Coming. Thus, 'tis better to allow easy exit — otherwise, we would be left with tyranny, resulting in civil/religious war.