His teachings there could not have been clearer. Based on them, the Declaration of Independence is a 100% anti-Calvinist document; that is, if “Calvinism” stopped with Calvin.

Arguably it didn’t. Later “Calvinists” like Samuel Rutherford and Philippe de Mornay, apparently (and for obvious reasons) not satisfied having to live out Calvin’s teachings on submitting to political tyranny, made the most out of Calvin’s idea of “interposition,” and expanded it in the “living” philosophical sense (i.e., “living Calvinism,” “living Constitutionalism,” etc.), such that results could be achieved of which Calvin himself would not have approved.

Though I’m less familiar with their works than I am Calvin’s, they still, like Calvin, stopped short of approving of “revolt.” Rather, if the King violated the law, since “law was King,” we could follow the law not the unlawful actions of a King. That’s what Rutherford taught in Lex Rex. That’s NOT what Calvin taught. And even Rutherford’s more generous (than Calvin’s) teachings do not countenance revolt.

[Again, since I'm less familiar with Rutherford, I'll try to be cautious with claims of later "Calvinists" who expanded "interposition" beyond what Calvin taught and would have approved.]

Whatever else the Founders said they did — i.e., “we are resisting the unlawful actions of King George and Parliament” — something that does square with Rutherfordian rhetoric — they said they were revolting. They used the term “revolution” over and over again to describe what they did.

So while you may be able to, as some have, analyze the events of the American Revolution as intermediate magistrates fighting a war of self defense and resisting the unlawful actions of the British, you cannot square what the Founders said they did or the rhetoric they appealed to in the DOI with such a sentiment.

And orthodox Christian critics of the pro-revolutionary sentiments contained in the DOI might note that’s EXACTLY why so many “Christians” — some orthodox some heterodox — initially approved of the French Revolution and thought its principles an extension of the American. Once you pollute Christianity with foreign principles (like rebellion is okay) it acts as a cancer. Hence, the French Revolution as the logical extension of the anti-biblical principles of the American Revolution.

That’s what, among others, Gregg Frazer, Russell Kirk, Lino Graglia, and Roberts Bork and Kraynak might note.

Now, on a personal note, to satisfy my friend Jim Babka, I am not saying the American Revolution was anti-biblical or that there aren’t understandings — even traditional orthodox understandings — of the Bible that are compatible with revolutionary thought.

Rather, my narrow claim is 1) Calvin didn’t approve this. And 2) The Founders, though some of their actions and rhetoric was consistent with more generous notions of interposition (i.e., they oft-talked about how the the British violated British law in dealing with America), went beyond that and said they revolted.

Let’s look at Book IV, Chapter 20 of Calvin’s “Institutes of the Christian Religion” and settle the issue. He wrote:

For while in this unworthy conduct, and among atrocities so alien, not only from the duty of the magistrate, but also of the man, they behold no appearance of the image of God, which ought to be conspicuous in the magistrate, while they see not a vestige of that minister of God, who was appointed to be a praise to the good and a terror to the bad, they cannot recognise the ruler whose dignity and authority Scripture recommends to us. And, undoubtedly, the natural feeling of the human mind has always been not less to assail tyrants with hatred and execration, than to look up to just kings with love and veneration.

25. But if we have respect to the word of God, it will lead us farther, and make us subject not only to the authority of those princes who honestly and faithfully perform their duty toward us, but all princes, by whatever means they have so become, although there is nothing they less perform than the duty of princes. For though the Lord declares that a ruler to maintain our safety is the highest gift of his beneficence, and prescribes to rulers themselves their proper sphere, he at the same time declares, that of whatever description they may be, they derive their power from none but him. Those, indeed, who rule for the public good, are true examples and specimens of his beneficence, while those who domineer unjustly and tyrannically are raised up by him to punish the people for their iniquity. Still all alike possess that sacred majesty with which he has invested lawful power. I will not proceed further without subjoining some distinct passages to this effect. 657 We need not labour to prove that an impious king is a mark of the Lord’s anger, since I presume no one will deny it, and that this is not less true of a king than of a robber who plunders your goods, an adulterer who defiles your bed, and an assassin who aims at your life, since all such calamities are classed by Scripture among the curses of God. But let us insist at greater length in proving what does not so easily fall in with the views of men, that even an individual of the worst character, one most unworthy of all honour, if invested with public authority, receives that illustrious divine power which the Lord has by his word devolved on the ministers of his justice and judgment, and that, accordingly, in so far as public obedience is concerned, he is to be held in the same honour and reverence as the best of kings. [Bold mine.]

Calvin could not have been clearer: Tyrannical Kings — even the worst that you can imagine [i.e., Hitler or Stalin] — don’t lose their Romans 13 divinely ordained status.

But there’s more (the bold, again, is mine):

… When we hear that the king was appointed by God, let us, at the same time, call to mind those heavenly edicts as to honouring and fearing the king, and we shall have no doubt that we are to view the most iniquitous tyrant as occupying the place with which the Lord has honoured him. When Samuel declared to the people of Israel what they would suffer from their kings, he said, “This will be the manner of the king that shall reign over you: He will take your sons, and appoint them for himself, for his chariots, and to be his horsemen; and some shall run before his chariots. And he will appoint him captains over thousands, and captains over fifties; and will set them to ear his ground, and to reap his harvest, and to make his instruments of war, and instruments of his chariots. And he will take your daughters to be confectioneries, and to be cooks, and to be bakers. And he will take your fields, and your vineyards, and your oliveyards, even the best of them, and give them to his servants. And he will take the tenth of your seed, and of your vineyards, and give to his officers, and to his servants. And he will take your men-servants, and your maid-servants, and your goodliest young men, and your asses, and put them to his work. He will take the tenth of your sheep: and ye shall be his servants” (1 Sam. 8:11-l7). Certainly these things could not be done legally by kings, whom the law trained most admirably to all kinds of restraint; but it was called justice in regard to the people, because they were bound to obey, and could not lawfully resist: as if Samuel had said, To such a degree will kings indulge in tyranny, which it will not be for you to restrain. The only thing remaining for you will be to receive their commands, and be obedient to their words.

27. But the most remarkable and memorable passage is in Jeremiah. Though it is rather long, I am not indisposed to quote it, because it most clearly settles this whole question. “I have made the earth, the man and the beast that are upon the ground, by my great power, and by my outstretched arm, and have given it unto whom it seemed meet unto me. And now have I given all these lands into the hand of Nebuchadnezzar the king of Babylon, my servant: and the beasts of the field have I given him also to serve him. And all nations shall serve him, and his son, and his son’s son, until the very time of his land come: and then many nations and great kings shall serve themselves of him. And it shall come to pass, that the nation and kingdom which will not serve the same Nebuchadnezzar the king of Babylon, and that will not put their neck under the yoke of the king of Babylon, that nation will I punish, saith the Lord, with the sword, and with famine, and with pestilence, until I have consumed them by his hand” (Jer. 27:5-8). Therefore “bring your necks under the yoke of the king of Babylon, and serve him and his people, and live” (v. 12). We see how great obedience the Lord was pleased to demand for this dire and ferocious tyrant, for no other reason than just that he held the kingdom. In other words, the divine decree had placed him on the throne of the kingdom, and admitted him to regal majesty, which could not be lawfully violated. If we constantly keep before our eyes and minds the fact, that even the most iniquitous kings are appointed by the same decree which establishes all regal authority, we will never entertain the seditious thought, that a king is to be treated according to his deserts, and that we are not bound to act the part of good subjects to him who does not in his turn act the part of a king to us.

In short, Christians are to be obedient to tyrant Kings simply because they are Kings. Obedience to tyrannical Kings is obedience to God. This is Calvin 101.

But there’s even more:

But rulers, you will say, owe mutual duties to those under them. This I have already confessed. But if from this you conclude that obedience is to be returned to none but just governors, you reason absurdly. Husbands are bound by mutual duties to their wives, and parents to their children. Should husbands and parents neglect their duty; should the latter be harsh and severe to the children whom they are enjoined not to provoke to anger, and by their severity harass them beyond measure; should the former treat with the greatest contumely the wives whom they are enjoined to love and to spare as the weaker vessels; would children be less bound in duty to their parents, and wives to their husbands? They are made subject to the froward and undutiful. Nay, since the duty of all is not to look behind them, that is, not to inquire into the duties of one another, but to submit each to his own duty, this ought especially to be exemplified in the case of those who are placed under the power of others. Wherefore, if we are cruelly tormented by a savage, if we are rapaciously pillaged by an avaricious or luxurious, if we are neglected by a sluggish, if, in short, we are persecuted for righteousness’ sake by an impious and sacrilegious prince, let us first call up the remembrance of our faults, which doubtless the Lord is chastising by such scourges. In this way humility will curb our impatience. And let us reflect that it belongs not to us to cure these evils, that all that remains for us is to implore the help of the Lord, in whose hands are the hearts of kings, and inclinations of kingdoms. 658 “God standeth in the congregation of the mighty; he judgeth among the gods.” Before his face shall fall and be crushed all kings and judges of the earth, who have not kissed his anointed, who have enacted unjust laws to oppress the poor in judgment, and do violence to the cause of the humble, to make widows a prey, and plunder the fatherless.

In other words, you submit to the tyrant, King, parent or whomever God placed in power over you. If they treat you unfairly, God will get them for it. On Earth, the buck stops with them.

After writing this, Calvin notes examples where Kings were removed.

Herein is the goodness, power, and providence of God wondrously displayed. At one time he raises up manifest avengers from among his own servants, and gives them his command to punish accursed tyranny, and deliver his people from calamity when they are unjustly oppressed; at another time he employs, for this purpose, the fury of men who have other thoughts and other aims. Thus he rescued his people Israel from the tyranny of Pharaoh by Moses; from the violence of Chusa, king of Syria, by Othniel; and from other bondage by other kings or judges. Thus he tamed the pride of Tyre by the Egyptians; the insolence of the Egyptians by the Assyrians; the ferocity of the Assyrians by the Chaldeans; the confidence of Babylon by the Medes and Persians, — Cyrus having previously subdued the Medes, while the ingratitude of the kings of Judah and Israel, and their impious contumacy after all his kindness, he subdued and punished, — at one time by the Assyrians, at another by the Babylonians. All these things, however, were not done in the same way. The former class of deliverers being brought forward by the lawful call of God to perform such deeds, when they took up arms against kings, did not at all violate that majesty with which kings are invested by divine appointment, but armed from heaven, they, by a greater power, curbed a less, just as kings may lawfully punish their own satraps. The latter class, though they were directed by the hand of God, as seemed to him good, and did his work without knowing it, had nought but evil in their thoughts.

This passage is consistent with Calvin’s notion that God is in charge and if a King is unfairly tyrannical, God always has the power to control events and remove the King. Calvin draws two classes of people God uses as “instruments” of His will, here. One, people who delivered from tyranny using non-sinful means, and others, who delivered from tyranny using sinful means. As Gregg Frazer has pointed out, God in His Providence, sometimes uses the sinful actions of human beings (i.e., George Washington leading an armed revolt in violating of Romans 13 and other parts of the Bible) to accomplish His will. Other times, as with Moses, no sinful means are employed. Moses led no revolt. God brought on the plagues and Moses simply took his people and left just as Pharaoh instructed.

Now, there is probably more than one way to interpret these biblical passages and if others want to make a case for righteous biblical rebellion based on these stories, I’m all ears.

Just understand: Nowhere does Calvin in Institutes use these examples to justify what he just spent lots of words telling believers was forbidden. If you see that in the above reproduced passage, you see something I don’t.

Immediately after mentioning that God can take revenge on unfair tyrants, Calvin discusses what has been termed “interposition.” And again, to be clear, Calvin stresses private resistance of tyrannical authority is forbidden.

… Although the Lord takes vengeance on unbridled domination, let us not therefore suppose that that vengeance is committed to us, to whom no command has been given but to obey and suffer. I speak only of private men. For when popular magistrates have been appointed to curb the tyranny of kings (as the Ephori, who were opposed to kings among the Spartans, or Tribunes of the people to consuls among the Romans, or Demarchs to the senate among the Athenians; and perhaps there is something similar to this in the power exercised in each kingdom by the three orders, when they hold their primary diets). So far am I from forbidding these officially to check the undue license of kings, that if they connive at kings when they tyrannise and insult over the humbler of the people, I affirm that their dissimulation is not free from nefarious perfidy, because they fraudulently betray the liberty of the people, while knowing that, by the ordinance of God, they are its appointed guardians.

That’s the passage that later “Calvinists” like Rutherford would try to make the most of. But he gives examples of “popular magistrates” (not private men — who as individuals have NO right to resist political tyranny) “appointed.” Lower magistrates must act pursuant to recognized law, like Congress impeaching and removing the President. If there is no legally recognized mechanism for removing the tyrannical King, then tough luck.

In America in 1776, British Law was the recognized, existing law. And Blackstone — the recognized expert on British law — was clear that the King and Parliament (the particular way in which THEY split power) were the final EARTHLY arbiters of British law and rule.

Again, if one wants to argue, contra Blackstone, that America (the Continental Congress) was justified, as lower intermediate magistrates, in resisting the British on British legal grounds, fine. But America said it did more.

America said it revolted. And that’s not consistent with Calvin, and arguable not with what the later, more generous “Calvinists” taught.

the fight for things like health care reform and cap and trade is that they potentially challenge the more depressing predictions of public choice theory. In other words, these major reforms would (if enacted) challenge the notion that democracies are primarily controlled by narrow interest groups.

Specifically, Publius is referring to “the idea that intensely-committed minorities run the show in majoritarian democracies.”

I like the Obsidian Wings blog, and frankly it’s a bit unfair to pick up on an almost year-old post and critique it, but I’m a Public Choice person myself, and like Thompson, “I must respectfully dissent.” First, Public Choice theory doesn’t make the hard claim that non-passionate majorities always lose to passionate minorities, but the softer claim that they are better positioned to either a) kill legislation they don’t like or b) influence its final shape to the point where it’s relatively palatable to them.* That being the case, any single win for a dispassionate majority hardly disproves Public Choice theory, any more than a loss in one tournament disproves Tiger Woods’ claim to be the top golfer in the world today. The frequency of outcomes that cut against the Public Choice prediction is what matters, or to put it another way, the proportion of successful bills in which the Public Choice prediction fails.

Second, I believe Publius’s claim is based on not seeing what’s actually happening in the legislative issues he/she discusses, net-neutrality, cap-and-trade, and health care reform. To keep this short (and because I know diddly about net-neutrality), I’ll focus my critique on health care, but as to the idea that net neutrality isn’t supported by powerful interests, see this and this. As for cap-and-trade, see this and this. And keep in mind that it’s not enough simply to point to a committed minority interests that loses, when there are other committed minority interests that win.**

But the history of health care reform in the U.S. is an outstanding example of Public Choice theory. There is no evidence the U.S. public historically was more opposed to national health care than other industrialized westerners, but we’re the only such country that never enacted it. The difference is governmental structure. In a parliamentary system, a majority faces few, if any, roadblocks to legislative success*** But the U.S. system is designed in such a way that it’s chock full of veto players. It’s not easy in the U.S. system for a committed minority to achieve their goal, but it’s comparatively easy for them to prevent any disliked change from the status quo.

If the current health care reform was a shift to a national health care system, Public Choice theory might be hard put to explain it. (Or perhaps not–I have long argued that if large U.S. corporations favored a national health care system as a means of cutting their costs, it would create a winning coalition on the issue.) But we don’t have a reform that’s going to create such a widespread benefit. In fact we aren’t even going to achieve the much less widespread “public option,” which itself might pose some challenge to the Public Choice prediction.**** The national health care plan would eliminate all, or nearly all, the business of private health insurers, while the public option would create a governmental competitor to them. Instead, what we are getting–if even this passes–is a mandate that everyone buy insurance, and a government subsidy to help them do so. This is obnoxious to that committed minority of insurance companies how? The government is offering to force people to be their customers, and helping to ensure payment. It would take a committed free market businessman–a rarer breed than the free market Democrat–to refuse that. They may not be leaping in to push for this reform, but they have immeasurably less incentive to invest resources in opposing it. In short, this type of reform is pretty much just what Public Choice would predict as the outcome in the U.S. system.

Hey, both Michael Moore and the Workers World target=”_blank”>Worker’s World oppose the bill. So both the frothing-at-the-mouth conservatives who call it socialist and the liberals who think it’s a real progressive victory are just damned wrong. Michael Moore and the Worker’s World seem to intuitively understand Public Choice theory–or perhaps just the details of the reform–better than Publius.

But there’s one more element to Public Choice theory that Publius overlooked, which is that it allows for the passage of broad-based but shallowly supported bills in opposition to a committed minority, if enough support can be bought. And that’s what we’re seeing in this bill. In response to the furor over the special deal Nebraska was getting, the Democratic leadership didn’t eliminate Nebraska’s deal–it extended it to all the states! Vermont’s Bernie Sanders got $10 billion for community health centers around the country, with two of those scheduled for Vermont. How do you buy the vote of a progressive when your program isn’t progressive enough to satisfy him? Give him a progressive add-on not directly related to the substance of the bill. (Will community health centers be necessary if everyone has health insurance? Any health policy experts here?)

It should be noted that I’m being unfair to Publius. He/she wrote this months ago, when the public option still seemed feasible. So he/she is not, in fact, ignoring what’s happening now. So let me note that I’m not really attacking Publius him/herself, but using that at-the-time-optimistic argument to demonstrate why such optimism was little warranted. Despite the hopes of progressives, Public Choice theory is once again vindicated. I don’t expect Publius to be happy about it, but I hope he/she, and others, will come to recognize that nothing that happens in the foreseeable future is likely to disprove or discount it. Indeed, let me go so far as to say that, taking liberal values on their own basis, accepting without critique the policy goals they would like to achieve, they would do better to recognize the strength of Public Choice theory and use its lessons to their advantage, rather than relying on the hope that this time…nope, well maybe this time…it will fail.

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*For present purposes, I’m setting aside the committed minority’s ability to pass legislation the uncommitted majority opposes, because none of Publius’s examples are of this kind.

**Although those cases provide grounds for interesting analyses of why committed minority X won over committed minority Y.

***The most frequent obstacle is the fragility of a majority coalition. But if there is agreement among the coalition on a bill, it’s generally clear sailing.

****And I will point out, once again, that months ago I wagered that no such reform would pass (although at the time I had doubts I was right).

The problem is history is complex and there are great complex nuances to the religion & the American Founding issue. Given rational fear of K-12 historical ignorance I conclude we should be concerned they learn 1) raw facts, and 2) narratives both sides should be able to agree on, narratives “experts” like me might find too simple, but K-12 students might not.

Issues such as “was George Washington a Christian?” compounded with “what is the proper definition of Christian and does orthodox Trinitarian doctrine have anything to do with it?” are WAY beyond the call of what K-12 students should be expected to understand. Rather, we should expect them to be able to accurately recite who were the first X Presidents, what dates did they take office, where were they born and so on.

On three issues of contention — Thomas Aquinas, John Calvin, and the American v. French Revolution — the real story is too complex for K-12 students and teaching it the way the conservatives in Texas want distorts the record and will lead to misunderstanding.

First Aquinas: After years of intense study, I understand a case can be made for Thomas’ silent influence on the Founding. Thomas Jefferson listed Aristotle, Cicero, Locke and Sidney as the four chief influences on the Declaration of Independence.

Jefferson probably would never have heard of Aristotle but for Aquinas who incorporated his teachings into Christendom. And Locke positively affirmed Richard Hooker, the Anglican heir to Aquinas’ Roman Catholic natural law. Still, the FFs were, for the most part, anti-Roman Catholic bigots and thus, rarely if ever cited Aquinas as positive authority.

Second Calvin: Reading his Institutes, Calvin seemed to endorse an almost absolute duty of believers to submit to even un-godly pagan tyrannical rulers. He did leave one exception where lower magistrates, pursuant to a legally established and recognized mechanism, could work within the system to veto the rule of higher magistrates (similar to when Congress impeaches and removes the President).

Calvin did not recognize revolution. And whatever else the Founders said they were doing (i.e., resisting the unlawful actions of the British King), they said they were revolting. They used that specific term over and over again.

Yet, Calvin’s exception, in the hands and minds of later Calvinists, evolved to a point where the concept of “revolt” could be sold to Presbyterians (with a little help from the natural law teachings of Locke).

Finally, the French Revolution. Texas wants to teach that this was a “different” event than the American. Of course, all individual events are different from all other individual events. The problem is, the two events had striking parallels along with meaningful differences.

The French Revolution, like the American, was theistic; both appealed to “God’s” imprimatur. The two events seemed so similar at first that a great deal, probably a strong majority of, “Christian” American Founders supported the FR and THOUGHT it a continuation of the American.

Notable biblicists — some orthodox and some heterodox (most sympathetic to the Democratic-Republican Party) — thought Jesus would return in France at the success of their revolution to triumphantly usher in a global millennial republic of liberty, equality and fraternity. This was the first “End of History” thesis.

The French Revolution was similar to Iraq II. Both events had initial bipartisan support, with one party leading the way. Jefferson’s Democratic-Republicans more enthusiastically supported the FR than the Federalist Party. And the Federalists, as a whole, jumped ship, before the DRs.

Historical hindsight being 20/20, the meaningful differences between the French and American Revolutions, why one worked and the other didn’t, became more apparent after the FR’s failure.

I think I’ve accurately detailed three complex historical dynamics. The problem, as I see it, is all three exist at a level of complexity that is appropriate for college and graduate level study.

K-12 students won’t properly understand Thomistic or Calvinistic nuances during the American Founding anymore than they would Leo Strauss’ theory of the esoteric, hedonistic, Hobbsean John Locke.

Rather, teach them, just the facts, ma’am.

Update: Don’t take my “teach just the facts” too literally as some of the commenters at Positive Liberty have. Of course, good history teaching at whatever level involves telling compelling stories and making them come alive.

It’s about what we expect students to learn. This is the kind of thing I would want K-12 students to master. And this I would save for college or graduate level history.

“We explained to her that the [solar] panels weren’t enough to sustain a quality of life there,” Avondale’s code enforcement manager said.

Well, sure, who better to determine whether your quality of life is sustainable than someone who isn’t you?

Or as Jennifer says,

When you’re worried about someone’s quality of life, adding them to the ranks of the homeless might not be the best way to improve it, but it’s close enough for government work.

Let’s take a look at this latest update to the market vs. government tote board shall we?

• Market: Make it possible for someone to live a comfortable life more frugally.
• Government: Kick someone out of their home for trying to live more frugally.

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Well, I guess the liberals are right that government can correct the market’s errors.

Physicist Richard Feynman coined the term “cargo cult science” to describe work that has the superficial appearance of science, but that lacks “a kind of scientific integrity, a principle of scientific thought that corresponds to a kind of utter honesty—-a kind of leaning over backwards.” Shughart, I hate to say, despite being a Professor of Economics with a very respectable resume, engages in cargo cult economics in his argument against Daylight Savings Time. To wit:

According to my back-of-the-envelope calculation, in the U.S. we divert nearly $1.7 billion worth of valuable time to the annual spring-forward, fall-back exercise. That’s the opportunity cost—time that could be better spent on more productive things.

Economists typically value the opportunity cost at an individual’s wage rate. The Bureau of Labor Statistics preliminarily estimates that the average American’s hourly wage was $22.45 in January 2010.

Assuming it takes everyone 10 minutes to change all of his or her clocks and watches, the opportunity cost equals $3.74 per person. The one-time opportunity cost for the nation (based on total U.S. population over 18 years old, excluding residents of Arizona, which doesn’t observe DST) therefore is $836,117,536. Since clocks are changed twice yearly, the total must be doubled.

This has the appearance of being a solid calculation, despite his modest claim that it’s only a “back-of-the-envelope” exercise. But it’s a vast overestimate based on three wholly faulty values: the time devoted to changing clocks, the value of that time, and the number of people who actually change clocks.

1. How Long Does it Take to Change Clocks?
First, he vastly overestimates the amount of time spent changing clocks. Perhaps he just has more clocks than I do. But as commenter Will at BusinessWeek noted, “in this era many clocks are synchronized through the Internet or radio to automatically adjust themselves.” Three of my clocks are of this kind: my computer’s clock, my cell phone’s clock, and the clock on my cable TV box. Total time for those three? Zero minutes. Total opportunity cost? $0.

I changed 6 clocks: my home office clock, my coffee-maker clock, my microwave oven clock, my alarm clock, my car’s clock, and the clock in the mailroom outside my office (which I’ve adopted because none of my colleagues will touch it, despite all of them using it to ensure they get to their classes on time). My estimate for the total time? One minute, max. The coffee-maker, microwave oven, and car clock all required only the simple push of one button, or a simultaneous push of two buttons. I generously grant 5 seconds for that task, so 15 seconds for all three. The other three required either pushing two buttons in sequence or turning the knob in the back. I’ll grant as much as 10 seconds for that task (again, I think, generous). The extra time comes from trying to hang the mailroom clock back on the wall, always a difficult task.

But wait, what about the time spent going around from one clock to the other? Zero seconds–I changed each one when I happened to be near it. The bedroom clock as I was getting into bed, the microwave and coffeemaker clocks as I was fixing breakfast, etc., etc. 1 minute max, 1/10 of Shughart’s estimate, and I do think I’m being generous (when I’m pouring my coffee, it surely takes less than 5 seconds to push the “hour” button once), although it might take longer when I fall back, as some, but not all, clocks require me to cycle through a full 23 hours.

So let’s cut his claim down appropriately. At $22.45/hour, 1 minute is worth 37 cents. Multiply that by the 223.5 million people he’s using as his baseline ($836,117,536/$3.74 per person–oddly, he excludes Arizona because it doesn’t have DST, but doesn’t exclude Hawai’i which also doesn’t), and we get a total national opportunity cost of $83,626,20 for each time change, or $167 million per year. That’s a good chunk of change, but not as bad as his estimate by an order of magnitude.

2. What Is the Real Opportunity Cost?
But what about that opportunity cost? Shughart is certainly correct when he says we calculate opportunity costs at the wage rate, but is that always the correct calculation? Economists know that the real opportunity cost is the best alternative you sacrifice in order to do or get whatever it is you do or get. But it’s damned hard to figure out what 300+ million people are sacrificing at any given moment, so we use the wage rate as a point of common comparison. But, using me as an example again, let’s see what my opportunity costs really were.

1. I changed my alarm clock as I was getting ready for bed. I do all kinds of little things as I’m getting ready for bed; getting a cup of water, trying to find that book I was reading last night, going back out to the living room to turn down the thermostat, putting some clothes away, fidgeting with the blankets, chatting with my wife. It’s hard to say there I actually sacrificed any time in the 10 seconds or less I spent changing the clock, especially as I was able to continue my chat with my wife. So, opportunity cost = $0.
2. I changed the microwave clock while fixing breakfast and chatting to my wife. I didn’t really do it instead of anything, except standing around aimlessly waiting for English muffins to pop out of the toaster. Opp cost = $0.
3. I changed the coffeemaker clock when, as I was replacing the coffeepot, I noticed the time was off, so after setting the pot in place I let my finger drift down to the hour button and pushed it. I suppose an argument could be made that I would have taken my first sip of coffee a second or two earlier, but if we’re going to go to that level, I need to start calculating the opportunity cost of my yawning. Opp cost = $0.
4. I changed the clock in my home office when I went in there to do some work. OK, let’s count the 10 seconds it took to pick up the clock and change it as time deducted from work, and give it the full $22.45 per hour,* which works out to 37 cents per minute, or just over 6 cents for every 10 seconds. 6 cents. There’s my opportunity cost. 6 whole lousy cents.
5. I changed the clock in my car as I was waiting for the kids to buckle their seat belt. Really, I was glad to have something to do with my time. I move quickly–I’m in the car, belted, with the engine on and the radio tuned before they’ve even touched the seatbelts–and I’m impatient. I’ve been known to start backing up the car before they have all the doors closed. Anything that keeps me occupied for those annoying few seconds while I’m waiting on them is a blessing. I should claim a benefit of 6 cents here, but in the scientific spirit of bending over backwards, I won’t. Opp cost = $0.
6. I noticed the clock in the mailroom hadn’t been changed when I got up from my desk and walked out there to stretch my legs a bit. I was taking a short break from work with the intention of doing nothing but taking a short break from work. So I think I could write off those 25 seconds (the 10 seconds to change it, and the 15 seconds to put it back on the wall), but again I want to bend over backwards. Who knows, perhaps I would have preferred doing absolutely nothing during my two minute stretch break to changing the clock. I’ll even round it up to 30 seconds, so at 6 cents per 10 seconds, the opportunity cost is 18 cents.

So there you have it. I calculate my opportunity costs for changing clocks at 6+18=24 cents. For simplicity, let’s round that up to 25 cents per person, multiplied by 223.5 million, then multiplied by two to cover both time changes, and now we get an annual opportunity cost of only $111.75 million.

3. How Many People Are Changing Clocks?
If I changed all the clocks in my house, what was my wife doing? Shughart assumes all people over 18 spend 10 minutes changing clocks. But why would my wife change them when I had already done so? And believe me, we don’t have enough clocks to eat up 20 minutes worth of effort between us.

This error on Shughart’s part is absolutely inexcusable. Instead of the 223.5 million people over the age of 18, he should be using households. And the Census Bureau reports about 105.5 million households. That includes Arizona, and I’m happy to keep it in, as more bending over backwards. So instead of 223.5 million people*25cents*twice a year, we should figure 105.5 million*25cents* 2, which equals $52.75 million.

So my estimate of the national opportunity cost is only $52.75 million. That’s under 6 cents for every man woman and child in the country. It’s not a perfect estimate, but I think it’s far more defensible than Shughart’s $1.7 billion. His 10 minutes is difficult enough to defend, but his assumption that every adult 18 and over spends ten minutes changing clocks is an inexcusably sloppy error. I know households where that would equal 40 minutes of time spent changing clocks.

Granted, I did more than a back of the envelope calculation, so let’s do one of those now. Let’s assume 5 minutes per household. That’s $1.87*105.5 million households*2 = $394,570,000, or 23% of Shughart’s estimate.

What Do We Get for the Money?
Shughart’s argument does make the surprising claim that we don’t actually get the energy savings that are supposed to result from Daylight Savings Time, based on studies from Indiana (which used to not participate) and Sydney, Australia’s extension of DST during the 2000 Olympics.** He doesn’t link to the research he cites, but I think it is this NBER paper (unfortunately, they don’t try to estimate a national cost for increased energy usage, but for Indiana alone they estimated $9 million per year, plus $1.7-5.5 million per year in social costs from increased pollution–on a broader scale that’s going to add up quickly). That’s a point on his side, because there is some opportunity cost to all the clock changing, and it would be foolish to be spending money for the purpose of losing money.

But Shughart only focuses on energy usage, and not the other effects of DST. His opponent in the debate, law professor Stephen Calandrillo, argues that DST reduces traffic fatalities and crime (criminals like the evening darkness, not the morning darkness). Shughart’s economist to know he should take these into account before recommending whether or not to eliminate Daylight Savings Time. Unfortunately, Calandrillo argues that, “despite the contrarians, DST saves energy.” Well, I’ll take the carefully researched NBER paper over his bare assertion which wholly ignores the cause of the increased energy usage.

Calandrillo may be wrong about traffic accidents, too, although this one is harder to figure out, as there is conflicting research. He points to an Insurance Institute for Highway Safety study. The link, unfortunately, goes only to the main page of the IIHS, but here is an American Journal of Public Health article, making that argument. But there are competing arguments that the sleep deprivation caused by springing forward causes more traffic accidents, and more on-job injuries.

I can’t make a judgment call on this research, but if DST does indeed reduce traffic fatalities and theft, it might not be hard to achieve a net benefit with an opportunity cost between $53 and $400 million dollars. Whether we do or not, I can’t say. But even if we add in the tens of millions more in increased energy usage*** and pollution costs, it’s certainly going to be more plausible that the benefits are worthwhile than if we disingenuously inflate the opportunity cost to $1.7 billion.

For my part, I have no use for morning light, which does me the great disservice of waking me before 9:00 a.m., and love having the light linger on forever in the evenings (I’ve been fortunate enough to live in Eguene, OR, and here in Michigan at the western end of the time zone, where I get this benefit every spring and summer). But I don’t know if it’s worthwhile. I’d like to know, but cargo-cult efforts like Shughart’s don’t get me there.

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*My actual wage rate is well-nigh incalculable. I get summers off, but I do quite a bit of work, in odd sets of hours, during that time, and I work well more than 40 hours a week during the academic year, but I’ve never succeed in keeping count. It’s considerably more than the skeptics think, and that’s true for all my colleagues. And I’m not going to tell you how much I get paid.

**The energy-saving argument is that we’ll be doing more of our evening activities in the daylight hours, thus we’ll be using less electricity. Of course people like me like lots of light, so I have the lights on even in the daytime, as my house isn’t designed to bring in much natural light. But the non-energy-saving argument notes that heating and cooling demands increase when people are getting up earlier, and that outweighs the savings in lighting energy.

***Mostly in the South, as the increased cost is primarily from air conditioning, so we can’t simply extrapolate from Indiana to all the other states.

I think this view misses that we are talking about people who are members of social groups. And regardless of whether the basis for that social group is 100% genetic/immutable (race), 100% about chosen beliefs (religion), or something more complicated (i.e., being Jewish or gay) someone’s social group basis merits some degree of respect as a citizen.

It is ironic, I note, that one group — conservative Christians — whose status is far more chosen and mutable than the other group — gays — tend to argue that gays aren’t a real “social group” because their status really isn’t “immutable.”

As a fair minded libertarian pluralist I believe — forget all of this fancy debate about mutable, immutable, chosen whacko religious beliefs and chosen perverted behavior — if you are a part of a peaceful productive group of citizens as most gays, blacks and conservative Christians are — you are a legitimate “social group.”

I’m not a humor prude. To the contrary, I’m a longtime Howard Stern fan. And it’s precisely because he’s an equal opportunity offender that he resonates with me. There is a double standard in various circles where some groups are off limits.

That bothers me.

The truth is whatever social group to which you belong, there will be those among you who fit the garish stereotypes. I don’t have a problem with poking fun at them as long as 1) all groups are fair game, and 2) we realize that most folks within that group DON’T fit the garish stereotypes.

Perhaps it’s a failing on my part, but these clownish folks entertain me. I eat up Fred Phelps. And I’d love to see a debate on gay rights between Neal Horsley and Chris — leave Britney alone — Crocker.

I assume most folks know who Crocker is given his 30 million hits on YouTube.

Neal Horsley is the dumb ass who just got arrested for protesting Elton John’s home with signs “Elton John must Die.”

Elton’s crime? He said he thought Jesus was a super intelligent, sensitive gay man. To which Horsley replies what Elton really meant was Jesus achieves orgasm by ……….. Actually no. That’s not necessarily what Elton meant. He could have meant Jesus had a homosexual orientation but lived a celibate life.

But Horsley is just a very stupid man. How dumb? Just watch:

And (the best part) — I’m not making this up — Horsley has admitted to having sex with animals while growing up on his farm.

Brayton called that interpretation “profoundly contrary to the historical record.”

“John Jay, Alexander Hamilton and James Madison wrote the Federalist Papers to explain each and every provision of the Constitution to a population that was overwhelmingly Christian and convince them to vote for it. If they could have pointed to biblical sources for those provisions, that would have been a very powerful argument in favor of ratification. Yet not once is the Bible mentioned anywhere in those 85 essays. And not once, according to the notes of those in attendance, was the Bible ever referenced at the constitutional convention in Philadelphia to justify a concept or provision,” according to Brayton.

This chapter, in any normally partitioned work, would not be separate from the prior one. Chapter 6 discussed dominions won both by one’s own ability and via the powers of others, with examples of the former. This chapter discusses the same thing, but with examples of the latter. The structure is somewhat unusual, but it works well, at least for me.*

However this particular chapter doesn’t work. For the first time, Machiavelli’s argument fails to persuade. I get an odd feeling reading this chapter, because I believe his argument—that those who acquire their principalities through the good graces of others placing them in power are almost inevitably doomed to failure—is correct, but the example he uses to defend it doesn’t work on its own terms.

Here is the single claim around which the chapter is structured:

Those who rise from private citizens to be princes merely by fortune have little trouble in rising but very much in maintaining their position….They neither know how to, nor are in a position to maintain their rank…unless he be a man of great genius…

The rest of the chapter is an extended discussion (this is one of his longer chapters) of one case, that of Cesare Borgia (aka Duke Valentine), who was placed in a position of authority by his father, Pope Alexander VI. ** Machiavelli seems to intend that this be another “hard case,” one that convincingly demonstrates the claim by working out as the claim predicts despite seeming to be least likely to do so. He holds Borgia up as the “man of great genius,” and shows that even he—despite doing almost everything right—cannot hold onto his dominions once his patron dies. That is, he doesn’t use as his example a weak and foolish man who was put into power because of his weakness and foolishness make him easy to control and easy to remove when the time comes, but someone who despite doing all the right things after being put into power still fails. Here’s a sample of the right moves made by Borgia/Duke Valentine.

• He crushed the important families of Rome so they could not oppose him.
• He conquered other principalities so they could not oppose him, but he would have their forces aligned with his.
• He found a way to throw off the influence of the French, whose assistance had been necessary to bring him to power but whose continued influence was a threat to his power.
• He gained influence in the College of Cardinals, so that—when his father died—while he could not determine who would become pope, he could block anyone whom he opposed.

Despite all these great maneuvers, and the ones he was involved in at the time his father died, he had only partially secured his control. But,

had he succeeded, as he had done before, in the very year that Alexander died he would have gained such strength and renown as to be able to maintain himself, without depending on the fortunes or strength of others, but solely by his own power and ability.

The intended takeaway lesson is, “Had Borgia depended on his own considerable ability from the beginning, he would not have been at the mercy of uncontrollable events like the death of his patron.” And indeed, he would have had no patron whose continued support he needed.

But the example fails because of two other factors, one a bad choice by Borgia and one an uncontrollable event of “fortune,” that he would have succumbed to even if he had gained his territories through his own ability.

First, when his father died, although he could effectively control the selection of the pope, he allowed the wrong person to be selected. Machiavelli is unsparing in his criticism.

The only thing he can be accused of is that in the creation of Julius II he made a bad choice…he ought never to have permitted any of these cardinals to be raised to the papacy whom he had injured…

So one could argue that Borgia’s failure was due to bad choice, rather than to fortune. Granted, this might support Machiavelli’s claim that “Those who rise from private citizens to be princes merely by fortune … neither know how to, nor are in a position to maintain their rank.” Perhaps even Borgia, despite pretty good judgment, didn’t have the requisite “genius.” But Machiavelli has said that even the man of genius will have a hard time holding his position of power, and though he doesn’t come right out and say it, the implication is that the genius won’t be able to overcome all the factors against him because—having gained his position before creating a solid footing–too many things will be against him. But the doom of Borgia from the choice of new pope was not one of those many factors against him; it was just a mistake.

Second, Machiavelli discusses Borgia’s ill-health at this time, calling him “half-dead,” and arguing that “had [he] been in good health, he would have survived every difficulty.” That argument suggests he would have survived even the poor selection of pope, but that he was becoming too physically ill to continue to succeed. And in the end, he died only four years after his father. Certainly this had nothing to do with his coming to success through fortune, so the same overriding factor that doomed him as a “prince through fortune,” would have doomed him as a “prince through ability.”

So ultimately Machiavelli’s example doesn’t prove what he wants it to prove. The two causes of Borgia’s failure are not necessarily attributable to his having become a prince through fortune. Machiavelli is limited here, I think, by the reliance on anecdotal evidence rather than something more statistical. Although he predated the development of the formal approach to political analysis—he could hardly be the grandfather of it, as he is, if he did not in fact predate it—he would probably have been better served by using multiple examples, with less detail in each, to show that a variety of princes brought to power by fortune—those with greater and lesser “genius,” and those with more favorable and less favorable circumstances—nearly all failed to maintain their position. Of course to do that properly would also require showing that a greater number of those who came to power through their own abilities, without a patron, were able to maintain their power once in it. Whether the evidence would show that, I can’t say.

On a closing note, as the chapters proceed, Machiavelli’s admiration for the man of genius, who can command political authority and shape events to go his way, is abundantly clear. As I noted previously, this is not a dispassionate analysis of such men, but the promotion of them as the type of man to emulate. Machiavelli the bureaucrat was himself not such a man, although he is said to have had his own genius as an administrator, but it seems as though that is the type of man he would like to work for. Psychological implications abound, of course, but without enough evidence, I think, to talk meaningfully about them. More significantly, it bears on the hypothesis that he wrote the book in an effort to persuade Lorenzo di Medici to become the kind of prince who would restore the Florentine Republic, and seems to undermine that thesis. The kind of active powerful and aggressive person he is promoting does not seem like the type to set up a republic and step aside. The ideal Prince he has outlined so far is no Cincinnatus. But two chapters from now we come to his first discussion of the “civic principality,” and perhaps at that time we shall see something to support the hypothesis. For now I’m not reading ahead, and I don’t remember the details of the book from my last reading roughly 16 years ago, so I’m not sure what we’ll find.

Next Week: Chapter 8, “Of Those Who Have Attained the Position of Prince by Villainy”

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*For whatever reason, as I get older, my attention span gets shorter, so that—like my students—I struggle with long chapters and long works. Which isn’t to say I don’t like longer books; I just finished re-reading Shogun as my bedtime reading, and next on my list is the third book in Cormac McCarthy’s Border Trilogy.

** To follow his example clearly, one needs a working understanding of late 15th century Italian and Catholic history, which I, for one, do not have. The concept of a Pope openly having children puzzled me, despite a vague understanding that the Catholic Church had at some time in the past been astoundingly corrupt. And the surfeit of names, places, and events that occur in this chapter are a bit mind-boggling, although having occurred in Machiavelli’s lifetime, they would have been very familiar to his first readers. For my part, I am very grateful to the anonymous students of Italian and Catholic history who have written Wikipedia’s pages on these men.

Let those then who are attached to the doctrine of the Trinity, try whether they cannot hit upon some method or other of reconciling a few particular texts, not only with common sense, but also with the general and the obvious tenour of the Scriptures themselves. In this they will, no doubt, find some difficulty at first, from the effect of early impressions, and association of ideas; but an attention to the true idiom of the scripture language, with such helps as they may easily find for the purpose, will satisfy them that the doctrine of the Trinity furnishes no proper clue to the right understanding of these texts, but will only serve to mislead them.

In the mean time, this doctrine of the Trinity wears so disagreeable an aspect, that I think every reasonable man must say with the excellent Archbishop Tillotson,* with respect to the Athanasian Creed, “I wish we were well rid of it.” This is not setting up reason against the Scriptures, but reconciling reason with the Scriptures, and the Scriptures with themselves. On any other scheme, they are irreconcileably at variance.

One of the most common criticisms is “we do not know if either space or time is in fact ‘infinite’” as one of Sullivan’s readers put it.

I agree with this and, personally, do NOT assume time is infinite on both ends. My atheist, astronomer, interlocutor does.

I’ve noticed philosophical atheists oft-make that claim in order to assert the universe’s uncreated self existence. And I’ve also noticed theists (usually orthodox Christians), attempting to argue the philosophical necessity for God, note the universe, time itself, had a beginning and thus the universe must have had a first cause.

On a personal note, as I see it, if time is NOT in fact infinite in reverse — if time/space/matter/energy began at the big bang — then, that does necessitate a prime mover or first cause.

Otherwise, the atheist asks for a first miracle to get the ball rolling.

What caused the prime mover? I don’t know. Perhaps the prime mover is self existent. Or perhaps a self existent unknowable deistic cause created lesser active personal gods, one of whom is our Jehovah who created us. That’s what Ben Franklin believed at one point in his life and is (as far as I understand) what the Mormons believe.

Researching the matter further, I came across Livington’s personal Thirty Nine Articles on religion which again slammed the Athanasian creed (and thereby the Trinity). Those and Livington’s other writings found in the Independent Reflector can be found in this book.

Unfortunately, google books blocks important parts of Livingston’s writings and the entire Thirty Nine Articles haven’t yet been uploaded to the public domain provisions of the Internet.

So I went to the David Library in Washington’s Crossing and researched them. Unfortunately, the microfilm copies I made don’t read well enough for me to post them (for now). But, the good news is I read the entire articles and you will just have to trust my honesty and independent verification of the record.

The articles are a brilliant satire against the notion of “orthodoxy” or “religious correctness.” Among other things, the articles chiefly target ecclesiastical authority, Roman Catholic doctrine, the Thirty Nine Articles of Faith of the Anglican Church, and the concept of orthodox Trinitarianism itself. Nowhere in the articles is the Trinity and cognate orthodox doctrines defended. The 39th Article of Livingston’s Creed reads:

I Believe, that this Creed is more intelligible than that of St. Athanasius; and that there will be no Necessity for any Bishop to write an Exposition on the Thirty Nine Articles of my faith.

In Livingston’s Thirty Nine Articles we see an important but not too well understood zeitgeist of America’s founding era “Protestant Christianity.” It’s where Roman Catholicism and ecclesiastical authority are so suspect that doctrines like original sin, trinity, and even the “right” (that is the traditional) books and copy of the biblical canon become associated with such and, consequently, are written off as human corruptions.

The Quakers, as it were, who lack ecclesiastical authority and creeds become the most authentic expression of “Christianity,” except for their theological refusal to take up arms against political tyranny.

And yes, that is expressed in Livingston’s creed: See Article VI.

Here is the New York Times story.

And here is Ed Brayton’s post with links to the Texas Freedom Network’s live blogging.

And here is John Fea’s post.

From the New York Times:

Cynthia Dunbar, a lawyer from Richmond who is a strict constitutionalist and thinks the nation was founded on Christian beliefs, managed to cut Thomas Jefferson from a list of figures whose writings inspired revolutions in the late 18th century and 19th century, replacing him with St. Thomas Aquinas, John Calvin and William Blackstone. (Jefferson is not well liked among conservatives on the board because he coined the term “separation between church and state.”)

“The Enlightenment was not the only philosophy on which these revolutions were based,” Ms. Dunbar said.

I’d like to get more to the bottom of the Jefferson erasure. I understand that the American Founding was more than just Jefferson. But, at the same time, you can’t erase his monumental influence from the Founding. He was the author of the Declaration of Independence and the third President of the United States.

Aquinas was virtually never cited by the Founders (though there a story to be told on his silent influence). Blackstone, though important as a “common law” authority, was a Tory and a supporter of British absolutism. And Calvin likewise, in no uncertain terms, taught Romans 13 means submission to tyrants is obedience to God.

Though there is a story in how Calvinists-Presbyterians came to support revolt, even though Calvin, were he alive and applying his principles, would have supported the British and termed the American Revolution a sinful violation of Romans 13.

That story, however, is too nuanced for K-12 students (you can, by the way, study that story with Mark Noll at the Witherspoon Institute this summer).

One of the problems with tracing the Founding to men who anticipated their ideas is we are left with literally hundreds from which to choose. The men they most often cited, however, were figures from the Enlightenment and the British Whigs. And those two categories overlap, with John Locke being the quintessential “Enlightenment” and “British Whig” figure. Others include Algernon Sidney, Montesquieu, John Milton, Samuel Clarke, Isaac Newton, Joseph Priestley, Richard Price, James Burgh, John Trenchard and Thomas Gordon and on and on.

Twice.

As further proof that libertarianism belongs to neither Team Red nor Team Blue, and notwithstanding dubious historical, legal and religious claims the Board has insisted upon, I’m pleased to see there’s some good news in the approved curriculum, too. To wit:

In economics, the revisions add Milton Friedman and Friedrich von Hayek, two champions of free-market economic theory, among the usual list of economists to be studied, like Adam Smith, Karl Marx and John Maynard Keynes. They also replaced the word “capitalism” throughout their texts with the “free-enterprise system.”

Also, the Times reports:

The board, whose members are elected, has influence beyond Texas because the state is one of the largest purchasers of textbooks. In the digital age, however, that influence has been diminished as technological advances have made it possible for publishers to tailor books to individual states.

Let’s have a round of applause for the digital age!

I feel like I have to have Facebook because everyone expects me to have it. Going without Facebook is sort of like going without a phone back in the 1980s. You just barely can’t do it. Facebook is much worse than a phone, though, because you’ve always been free to ignore your phone with no guilt whatsoever. Back in the 80’s you wouldn’t even necessarily have an answering machine, and that was some serious freedom. Facebook doesn’t run on freedom. It runs on guilt.

My mother-in-law has this habit of starting conversations with all the things she assumes I’ve seen on Facebook. “I guess you probably saw that L—– is getting over her car accident,” she says. “You should visit her sometime.”

“I didn’t know she’d had an accident. Was it bad?”

My mother-in-law is appalled. “How do you not know about it?”

I didn’t know because I have hundreds “Friends.” This makes it nearly impossible to keep properly in touch with any one of them. If L—– had been abducted by aliens, and if she posted a photo of herself doing the 8-dimensional cancan with a group of nubile Alpha Centaurians, I’d probably have missed that too.

I guess I just used some bad judgment back in the day, because for a long time I Friended any friend — or anyone else, really — who offered to be my Friend, no questions asked. Once you do that, you can’t un-Friend them. It would be an insult. And once you’ve Friended a few total strangers, you can’t start picking and choosing, either. So now you’re on this one-way ratchet of Friendedness, until your newsfeed is impossible to keep up with, and until you start missing some really important things. Like L—–’s car accident.

This took me a very long time to realize.

Trying earnestly to keep up has dangers of its own. If I tried, Facebook would eat an unacceptable share of my life, and I still wouldn’t succeed. Instead, I’d end up playing favorites despite myself. I’d end up alienating all those people whom I would prefer to benignly neglect.

That’s what Facebook is terrible at: benign neglect. I try for it anyway. I log on every few weeks and post more baby pictures. Then I disappear again. But today my mother-in-law is standing over me, aghast that she’s known about L—–’s not-terribly-serious car accident for an entire week, and I hadn’t known at all. L—– is my friend, but she’s my mother-in-law’s Friend, and my mother-in-law is very, very good at keeping up with her Friends. I feel guilty about this, too.

“I haven’t logged into Facebook since — ” I pause. How many days of sweet, guilty freedom has it been? To know the answer, I’d have to log into Facebook. I feel the slimy tentacles ascending my calves. Already I’ve forgotten all about L—– and her car accident. There’s work to be done. I log in.

“Since February 24,” I say.

Immediately I’m assaulted by requests. I ignore 75 of them, one after the other, blocking app after app. The developers keep hopefully thinking up new ones, and my Friends keep trying to get me to bite on them. But I won’t. I never do.

I feel like I’m kicking everyone I’ve ever been associated with, from the Friends I don’t even know all the way up to my own brother. Every single one of them wants me to do more stuff with them on Facebook. They recommend Friends I don’t know in countries I’ve never visited. I accept. They invite me to events in Philadelphia and Paris. I decline. They want me to join their causes. I decline again. They want me to become a fan. I mean, a Fan. Of something. And I decline.

I wonder at some of my Friends, who have not hundreds, but thousands of Friends. How do they keep up?

My Friends used to ask me to play Farmville or Mafia Wars, but I long ago convinced the Facebook software that I have no use for either. Convincing my Friends is harder, because they often treat it as some sort of personal insult. I have to explain just why I won’t play Mafia Wars, over and over, to people I barely know. When they see that I’ve blocked their favorite apps, they ask me by Facebook e-mail to un-block them. It’s awkward.

I want to tell them: “No, I’m not joining your Mafia Wars thingy. Yes, I know I can join it and never do anything. I don’t care. I’m not getting involved. It’s nothing personal. I didn’t join Big Cat Rescue or Stop Child Pornography, either. I wouldn’t lift a finger — literally — for the Aflac Cancer Center and Blood Disorders Service of Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, as I was just now invited to do. Hell, I don’t even give Hugs to people. You see? That’s how evil I am. I even hate Hugs! Down with Hugs!”

If I’m not going to help any of these worthy causes (via Facebook, anyway), and if I can’t even be bothered to Hug my Friends, then I’m certainly not going to sign up for Mafia Wars.

But I can’t quit Facebook, because then my mom wouldn’t get her baby pictures. Curse you, baby pictures.

Eugene Volokh posts the articles of impeachment at the Conspiracy.

Will Porteous resign before there can be a trial in the Senate? I’m sure the Senators would appreciate not having to take time to prepare for and conduct a trial. As would Obama, presumably, since it would be just one more obstacle in the path of accomplishing his legislative agenda.

Based on this report from the Congressional Research Service, it looks as though Porteous would retain his pension if he resigned, but not if he is convicted in the Senate. However that judgment seems to be based only on a DOJ opinion from 1974, concerning Nixon. Since the Constitution is silent on the issue of pensions, and there’s been no authoritative Court ruling, I’d say the jury–so to speak–is still out on that issue.

In my post about charter schools I wrote,

There is a persistent tendency among educators, and left-leaning folks in general, to claim that education is a distinct type of good, so that unlike other goods, a competitive market is an inferior way to produce it.

In response, commenter BSK wrote,

As to whether or not education is a distinct good, I think it certain ways it is, but I’m not knowledgeable enough on economic theory to know whether it matters or not. I would argue that education is different than some other goods because there is a major vested interest in its success as a whole.

First let me say that my formulation was inexcusably sloppy. There is a category of goods that competitive markets do not produce well—public goods. So to suggest that for goods in general (those “other goods”) markets always work well is to commit a rather serious elision (and I won’t be surprised if one of our local economists chides me before this is posted—for the record, I wrote these words at 8:40 Eastern Time on March 11).

But for those fortunate enough to not have been sheepdipped into economic theory, what is a public good, and on what basis do I seem to claim that education isn’t one? The standard approach is to classify goods along two dimensions, whether they are rivalrous or non-rivalrous, and whether they are excludable or non-excludable. (Map source.)

Rivalrous goods are those that cannot be readily shared at the same time. As I explain to my students, a chair is a rivalrous good (unless you’re very good friends with the person you’re sharing it with). Despite generations of young lovers passing gum back and forth as they kiss, a stick of gum is a rivalrous good—they can’t really share it at the same time. Some goods are non-rivalrous, or at least close to it. More than one student can make use of a classroom at the same time, just as more than one person can enjoy watching a movie in the theater, and more than one person can make use of the freeway at the same time.

Excludability is about the relative ease of excluding users. Some—probably most—goods are highly excludable. You and I could share my house, but it’s easy for me to keep you out. Sometimes excludability is a function of technology and investment. America’s great plains were non-excludable until the invention of barbed wire allowed people to fence off the open range (or at least the access to water).

The 2×2 structure creates four types of goods. Private goods are the most common type of goods we encounter. The fact that they are both rivalrous and excludable makes them perfect market products—if I want one I have to pay for it, because it’s easy to exclude me if I don’t pay, and because I can’t just share someone else’s. Because money can be made by supplying them, they tend to be well supplied by a free market. We have no shortage of aluminum, balloons, crayons, diapers…yams, or zebra fish. All you need is the cash to pay for them.

Public goods are the exact opposite—they are both non-excludable and non-rivalrous. Not only can I share your public good with you without detracting from your enjoyment of it, but you can’t exclude me from it, so you can’t persuade me to pay for it. There may be a future in plastic, but not in public goods. Consequently public goods are one of the classic, and most persuasive, justifications for government, a justification first suggested, to the best of my knowledge, by David Hume. Markets fail in the provision of public goods, so they are one of the strongest justifications for government. Even if we assume people are basically good, discounting Hobbes’ “warre of all against all,” we run into the problem of not being able to provide public goods. It turns out that this really matters, because although there are—fortunately—very few pure public goods (go ahead, try to name 5), one that is generally accepted as being truly public is collective defense. If the invaders are repelled from our community, I enjoy the benefit of that safety, whether or not I have contributed to it. If all follow my selfish logic and try to free ride on the efforts of others, there won’t be any efforts of others! So government is justified, at the minimum, as the organizer of collective defense.

Many well-meaning people like to call education a public good, using a non-rigorous definition that runs something like, “it’s really important to the public.” It may indeed be—as an educator myself, I tend to agree, and not solely out of self-interest. But food, clothing, and shelter are even more critically important to the public (imagine having hordes of naked, starving, homeless people roaming your neighborhood), and yet the market provides* the vast majority of these items. ** So importance is not in itself a good yardstick for determining “publicness.”

Think about education and the characteristics of a public good. Is education rivalrous or non-rivalrous? I think the clear answer is that it’s non-rivalrous. Others share this knowledge that I am sharing here, without diminishing the benefit I receive from it, and my act of sharing it with those to whom it is new does not diminish the share of it remaining to the rest of us. So it’s halfway to being a public good. But is education excludable? It certainly seems to be so, else why are liberals so concerned about lack of access to it? Why did white people traditionally put so much effort into excluding African-Americans from it? On this count it fails, so obviously it cannot be a true public good.

Two types of goods remain to be considered. In the upper right are commons goods (or common pool resources, CPR for short). These are of particular interest, particularly to environmentalists. They are not excludable, so it is hard to limit the number of users, but each person’s use degrades the benefit enjoyed by other users. The result is that they tend to be overused and degraded, potentially destroyed. The classic example is ocean fisheries. CPRs are another justification for government (or, as Elinor Ostrom would tell us, collective self-governance, even in the absence of formal government), because in a non-regulated environment the CPR will be destroyed. As with public goods, CPRS lead to market failure.*** Obviously education is—thank god—not this type of good, else the more education we enjoyed, the faster it would be used up and destroyed.

I haven’t excluded education as a private good yet, so it could be either that or our final type of good. The chart labels them “low-congestion goods,” but the more common—I would say standard—term is “toll goods” (although they’re also often called club goods, following James Buchanan’s “An Economic Theory of Clubs,” which is how you’ll find them listed in Wikipedia). Toll goods are those which are excludable, but non-rivalrous. For example, it is easy to exclude me from the movie theater, but if I buy a ticket—pay the toll—and go in, my presence doesn’t degrade your enjoyment of the good (my behavior might, but my mere use of the good doesn’t).

So is education more like a private good or a toll good? As noted previously, it is excludable, so it on that dimension it could be either one. But as we’ve also noted, it’s non-rivalrous—we can share the same knowledge with considerably more enjoyment than we could share a piece of gum. So as I analyze it, education is best described as a toll good.

Do markets provide toll goods satisfactorily? For the most part, yes, because excludability means would-be users can be required to pay, making it profitable to supply the good. Movie theaters are amply provided by the private market, obviously, and while most of us tend to identify that classic toll good, the toll bridge, with public roads, private toll bridges are far from unknown. Indeed one of the busiest border crossings between the U.S. and Canada, the Ambassador Bridge between Detroit and Windsor, is privately owned, and profitable enough that the owner wants to build a second bridge. That suggests that the private market can satisfactorily provide education. And as I noted in my other post, we have empirical evidence at the collegiate level that private providers can produce a high-quality product.****

However there are several reasons why purely private provision of education may not suffice. One is that however efficient markets are, there always are some who are priced out. This can be particularly problematic in K-12 education, as it is not the direct beneficiary of the education who makes the decision whether or not to invest in it, but the parent, who is at best an indirect beneficiary. The child, not being able to either afford to pay the tuition or sign for a loan, is effectively priced out of the market, and that’s even if we are generous enough to assume the child would be capable of making wise decisions on these matters. Second, education may be unusual in that the less you have, the harder it is to recognize its value. If food were like education, it would be the person who is already stuffed to the gills who attributed the greatest value to a sirloin steak, rather than the starving person. But it takes a certain amount of education just to understand the point of education, so many who would benefit—and who could afford it—might not make the investment without government provision and prodding.

Those are rather fluffy reasons that move well outside the scheme we’ve been working in, so while I take them seriously, I think we can, for analytical purposes, set them aside. More importantly, some goods have positive externalities—benefits that accrue to others, but which they don’t pay for. My neighbors’ flowers are a wonderful example of this. But the greater the positive externalities—the more others can benefit at my expense—the less likely I am to make expenditures on them, so goods with substantial positive externalities are undersupplied by the market.

The best way to look at this is by erasing the lines separating the types of goods, and instead of seeing rivalrous/non-rivalrous and excludable/non-excludable as dichotomous variables, understand them as continuums (continuua?), where the degree of rivalrousness or excludability varies from non-existent to absolute. Any particular good may fall anywhere along either continuum, so that we could analyze them not as falling into a discrete category but as they relate to each other spatially. (This is how I always draw it in my classes now, as I’m persuaded it’s more analytically meaningful.) In that schema, a movie theater has very high excludability—I may get some enjoyment out of hearing you talk about the movie, or sitting outside the theater listening for the explosions, but unless I am actually inside the theater viewing it my enjoyment of the good is minimal. Education would be further to the right, closer to the public goods quadrant, with a greater degree of non-excludability—the positive externalities.

Based on that we would expect education to be fairly well supplied by private providers, but not completely so. There would be partial market failure, justifying some degree of government provision.

Our current public doesn’t take account of this at all. Despite a plethora of private schools in the U.S., because most of them are sectarian rather than for-profit they are easily dismissed as not relevant to the discussion, a very dubious concept, as non-profits are very much a part of free markets. But our policy debates are not actually focused on the question of whether we should have private or public provision—the assumption is all in favor of public provision, and we are arguing over public vs. private production (see the first footnote).

The standard assumption is that people would not be able to afford a private education, but of course in an unfettered market there would be education available at a variety of price points, just as with housing. And of course government could assist those who struggle even to meet the lowest price point—just as with housing. In fact the example of housing is exceptionally relevant. In the past several decades, the average size of American homes has doubled. We can apparently afford to buy ever larger homes (until 2009, that is), but could not afford to pay for something much more valuable than that extra half-bath or the finished basement. I don’t believe so. But since we don’t have to pay—directly, that is—for education, that’s not where we’re going to put our money, creating the impression that we can’t.

I did not intend to create a post whose word length almost perfectly equals the square footage of the average American home (2300+), but here it is. It’s something I’ve been trying to point out to people for roughly a decade now, but with absolutely minimal success. Very few people are interested in seeing education as anything but a public trust. Unfortunately, that’s an inaccurate model, and one that doesn’t provide a very clear direction for effective public policies.

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*Nobel Prize winner Elinor Ostrom emphasizes that there is a distinction between “provision” and “production.” Even when government engages in provision—providing the resources to bring something into fruition—it need not do the actual production. For example, in the U.S. governments provide for most roads, but the roads are usually privately produced.

**In some countries, the market does not provide most of the housing, due to legal constraints on the market rather, with the result that there is a long-term housing shortage.

***Although, as with the example of barbed wire on the great plains, sometimes technology can change the nature of the good so that it becomes excludable. Thus economists’ most-favored solution to CPRs, enforceable property rights.

****Given that the cost of a private college education is 3-5 times that of a public college education, the private schools better be providing a damn good product!

How about placing a bet in a derivatives market for motion pictures.

Since making a bet on a movie so is about the closest any of us will ever get to being actual show business producers, here’s possibly the funniest four minutes in the history of motion pictures (the next five minutes are pretty good, too):