The Mouse on "Conservatism" (Part VI)

As a more or less aside here (but one that goes right to the point of, “why government?”), take a look at the history of taxes levied on tobacco. One might argue with a high likelihood of success that this nation’s economy, in its beginning, rested upon “Tobo,” the tobacco trade. In pre-revolutionary America tobacco was the money crop of choice and competed with cotton and molasses for top place as a revenue-producing export. For the 170 years of the nation’s history, we would have been foolish to levy taxes restricting the tobacco trade, and we certainly did not. So, why was that policy changed? Why do we now have laws that operate precisely for the purpose of restricting the sale of tobacco? The answer’s obvious: because we know something now we didn’t know then. We have learned that a high correlation exists between the smoking habit and early death. If we had known in pre-revolutionary times what we know now, we would certainly not have made tobacco fundamental to our economic survival…or at least, we shouldn’t have. (But tobacco companies still sell their poison in countries where the laws do not yet reflect what we know.) Tobacco is a killer. To do nothing about it would make as much sense as letting Osama bin Laden and his cohorts run free. Many times more people die every year from the effects of tobacco poisoning than died in the twin towers, and both death tolls were (and remain) the result of purposeful acts.

The libertarian may counter with an appeal to individualism, claiming that any governmental concern for its citizens leads to a “welfare state.” The ensuing debate would hinge – as it ought – upon the definition of government’s obligation to its citizens. Should the government spend tax monies to determine what is good and bad for the people? Should the government attempt to learn about things like global warming and enact laws as indicated by the knowledge gained? Or should it leave all such matters to the free actions of individuals? These questions go to the heart of what the United States Constitution means when it speaks of the “general welfare” as one of the things the Congress shall be authorized to spend tax monies to obtain. A serious person might ask, and should ask, what is the constitutional meaning of the word “welfare”? My dictionary gives these definitions:

welfare n. 1. the good fortune, health, happiness, prosperity, etc., of a person, group, or organization; well-being.

2. financial or other assistance given to those in poverty or need; public relief.

But dictionary definitions cannot settle the matter. As we saw earlier, so simple a word as “happiness” can be understood in many different ways, so when we define “welfare” as the dictionary does, we merely substitute one anomalous meaning for another.

This then is the crux of the matter that Hayek’s ghost lamented when it spoke woefully of those who criticize the human mind: only a judicious exercise of the mind can resolve matters of this sort. We cannot expect to have “welfare” explained to us in a cook book fashion; the word is mentioned only twice in the Constitution – in the Preamble and in Article I, Section 8. In both cases it is preceded by the qualifier, “general.” Anyone faced with determining the usefulness (and constitutionality) of any law, any tax, or any regulation enacted by Congress under Article 1, Section 8 will have to ask whether the general welfare is served, and not the welfare of a mere individual or a group so small as to fall outside the constitution’s meaning.

It is in that context that we must ask whether any economic theory has been so perfectly demonstrated that its principles can be applied without having to ask whether, in particular cases, they serve the general welfare. We may accept – as I certainly do – that capitalist theory is superior to socialist theory, but this is not to say that cases will not arise in which quasi-socialist ideas (like excise taxes on tobacco and zoning laws) are useful. That we have to decide issues of that sort, with no firm guidelines for action, is one of the reasons we find government such a difficult thing to do well. While the “government of the United States has been emphatically termed a government of laws, and not of men” [John Marshall: Marbury v Madison], it is nevertheless men (like Marshall) who are charged with administering our laws and in deciding the generality of their welfare. There is no escape from the necessity to think.