My Route to Voluntaria
By James L. Payne
[Editor's Note: Political scientists James Payne
has taught at Yale, Wesleyan, Johns Hopkins, and
Texas A&M. He wrote his first book (published by
Yale University Press) while an undergraduate at
Oberlin College and now has over a dozen books and
monographs to his credit. Disappointed with the irrelevance
and left-wing orientation of the academic
political science discipline, Payne resigned his tenured
professorship (at Texas A&M) in 1985, and became
an independent, free-lance scholar living in
Sandpoint, Idaho. His recent works include an analysis
of Congress and the budget (THE CULTURE OF
SPENDING: WHY CONGRESS SPENDS BEYOND
OUR MEANS), an evaluation of the tax system
(COSTLY RETURNS: THE BURDENS OF THE U.
S. TAX SYSTEM), and an examination of social assistance
policies (OVERCOMING WELFARE: EXPECTING
MORE FROM THE POOR–AND FROM
OURSELVES).
In addition to his non-fiction books, Payne has
written the Princess Navina series of fictional allegories
(PRINCESS NAVINA VISITS MALVOLIA,
PRINCESS NAVINA VISITS MANDAAT, and PRINCESS
NAVINA VISITS NUEVA MALVOLIA). At the
request of the editor, he explains how he came to write
the fourth book in that series, PRINCESS NAVINA
VISITS VOLUNTARIA.]
When I began writing the first book of the Princess
Navina series in 1978,1 had no idea that my
efforts would culminate in 2002 with a volume laying
out a picture of a voluntary society. In fact, I
wasn't at that time a voluntarist, as I now call myself,
and probably would have laughed at someone
who tried to put forward a model of a voluntary
regime. I was a professor of political science at a
state university (grossly overpaid, I can now confess),
and committed to finding ways to fix the
flaws of government.
These, I was discovering, were more numerous
and appalling than I, or almost anyone, had dared
to report. In fact, I was seeing that when government
policies are closely examined, they often seem
diabolically perverse, as if policy makers had started
out with the aim of doing as much harm as possible.
This thought provoked me to invent, as an intellectual
exercise, a fictional country where the rulers
deliberately intend to inflict harm and sow havoc. It
was remarkable to see how often the policies developed
by these evil-intentioned rulers were the same
as those cherished by modern lawmakers. Seeing
that my friends enjoyed this little tale, I eventually
published it (PRINCESS NAVINA VISITS
MALVOLIA, 1990).
This book, like the others in the series, is a short,
illustrated volume in large type. My aim was to make
my points quickly and easily for an adult audience
and to avoid at all costs anything dull and ponderous.
I saw my books as an imitator of GULLIVER'S
TRAVELS but one that avoided the interminable
verbiage of that work. (PRINCESS NAVINA VISIT
MALVOLIA employs but 9,000 words; in the same
space Gulliver has not even begun making a single
point.) As it turned out, the casual format gives the
work the appearance of a children's book, and it has
also succeeded in that market.
The Malvolia book and the two sequels that also
explored government dysfunctions propelled me to a
deeper level of analysis. Almost any thoughtful person
can see that government is laughable, and often
tragically, inept. But what is the underlying cause of
its incompetence? The quest to answer that question
led, in the end, to PRINCESS NAVINA VISITS
VOLUNTARIA.
The problem, it seemed to me, is centralization.
With government, a small number of people attempt
to-manage much more than they can possibly understand.
Imagine, for example, setting a minimum
wage for scores of millions of people in tens of thousands
of employment situations. Any rule on the subject
made from the center would necessarily be inappropriate,
ineffective, or harmful in countless numbers
of cases. Similarly, how could a tiny handful of
men and women wisely oversee the spending of two
trillion dollars in tens of thousands of programs and
services? Such a system would necessarily involve
massive amounts of waste and misallocation. It became
increasingly clear that the only rational way
to tackle the provision of community services is a
highly decentralized system where tiny units deal
with problems small enough for the relevant decision
makers to grasp, tiny units like individuals, families, and local commercial and voluntary organizations.
As the Princess put it (in PRINCESS
NAVINA VISITS NUEVA MALVOLIA), "What's
wrong with politics is that everyone's trying to fix
things from a distance, like cooks trying to bake a
pudding through the speaking tube. No wonder they
blunder. When you tend things right under your
hands, you can succeed."
If small-scale decision-making is best, why has
the world opted for centralization? One is at first
tempted to blame it on the hubris of politicians. I
have spent many years researching the psychology
of politicians, interviewing both American and Latin
American leaders in an effort to determine their
motivational outlook. The results clearly show that
most of them are egotistical status seekers, craving
fame and glory. It is natural, then, that they should
seek to implement grandiose, centralized schemes in
hopes of becoming national heroes.
But yet, the blame lies not only with politicians.
Political leaders play to a mass audience that obviously
endorses this penchant for centralization. When
a national leader gets up and promises to fix the
country's education, agriculture, or medical care, the
public does not mark him as an idiot. They think he
is making sensible, commendable proposals!
So the underlying problem is that human beings
are not by nature constructed to be humble.
We always seem to think our opinions are valid,
even though those opinions might be based on
mere fragments of information, whim, shallow
impressions, hearsay, or emotion. The result is almost
everyone wants to impose his ideas on faraway
situations where it appears at first glance
that something is wrong. For example, when it is
reported that workers are paid seemingly low
wages in some job thousands of miles away, very
few people have the ability to suspend judgment,
saying, "I've only heard a tiny fragment of what is
bound to be complex social and economic arrangement,
and therefore I have no rational grounds for
drawing conclusions about right or wrong, or making
recommendations for improvement."
Instead, most people, including intelligent and
educated people, will say, "How wrong that is! The
workers should be paid more!"The politicians merely
reflect this widespread tendency to form opinions
about complex, distant circumstances. That is the
basic cause of government's destructive, inefficient
centralization.
It seems clear that this problem cannot be cured
by expecting people to become more sophisticated
about social and economic realities. Most people
have great difficulty mastering even elementary
points of economics (such as the idea that there is
no free lunch). It is Utopian indeed to expect the
population of any country to achieve a mature
humility about the human capacity to wisely address
countrywide problems.
The conclusion I reached, therefore, was that if
one cannot control the motive to centralize management
of the social world, the alternative must be to
control the means - which is, of course, the use of
force. It is force that enables far-off individuals, be
they senators or voters, to impose their whims on
situations which they imperfectly understand. Without
employing the threat of violence, these individuals
would have to rely on voluntary means, like persuasion,
or give up expecting their existing opinions
to be made effective.
Thus, the person, who believes that far-off workers
are underpaid would have to try to persuade
employers to raise their wages. His advice could be
taken or ignored, of course. Or, if the reformer were
really idealistic, he could donate money to be added
to the paychecks of the underpaid workers. Or he
could try to persuade the workers to quit their underpaid
jobs. The reformer who is deprived of the use
of force is not without means of implementing his
opinions, but these voluntary methods are necessarily
piecemeal and partial. The harmful, irrational centralized
control we now associate with government
cannot take place.
I concluded, then, that the ideal society would be
one where the members deliberately refrained from
the use of force, or to put it more carefully, where
they abstained from the initiation of force to attempt
to solve social problems. Thus was the land of
Voluntaria born. I tried to show how the public functions
now undertaken by a coercive, centralized government
would be undertaken in a voluntary regime
more efficiently and with less vexation by small-scale
units, especially voluntary organizations.
Although my aim to was identify a society where
social policy was made in a rational, helpful manner,
as I got into writing the story, I found myself making
other points. As I tried to visualize patterns of behavior
in a voluntary society, it became clear that
voluntary arrangements foster friendship, generosity,
and a sense of community. When you can't use
force to change other people's behavior, this more or
less compels you to approach them in a friendly, noncombative
way. And when you can't use force to improve
the world, you soon realize that an improved
world must depend on strengthening attitudes of
helpfulness and cooperation.
Thus, I discovered that a voluntary system does
not merely make good policy. It tends to make good
people.
First published in Issue 122 of The Voluntaryist.