On a Personal Note
Let’s start with something different this time: Because I’ve been considering renaming this newsletter for a while now. When I launched this project almost exactly 7 (!) years ago, it was just an unedited collection of links. Since then, it’s grown into something more. It is the major outlet for my ideas—and has become the springboard for all my other side quests (podcasts, talks, etc.).
So, I’m wondering whether a relaunch might be in order. And as some of you might know, I have been toying with the name philosophy& for years now—which kinda captures the essence of my “brand.” But I’m curious to hear your thoughts. Hence, I’d be super grateful if you could share your opinion in this super short survey below—it also has the option to submit your suggestions. Much appreciated! :-*
PS: Don’t worry. This ain’t part of some paid-content playbook.
BTW, my talk at the Freedom Games in Łódź has been published on the Liberal Europe Podcast. You can check it out here:
Disembedded Liberalism
Lately, I’ve been thinking more about the genealogy (i.e. rise and decline) of the intellectual traditions of ordoliberalism and Mont Pèlerin-style neoliberalism. (And yes, I’m obviously cooking on a project on this) So, I stumbled across this two-part essay by Sam Hammond—who I remember from my time at the Institute for Humane Studies. And I must say: This is truly excellent stuff. He ties together lots of novel insights in a very concise way. Easily one of the best conceptual pieces of the year. Here is a great example of what I mean:
[A]s seen in its origins, neoliberalism has always had a left and right flank, and if anything began as a form of Third Way-ism most closely associated with center-left internationalists. Neoliberalism’s association with the small government right merely conflates the 1980s Anglo-American experience with a much broader phenomenon. Thus right-neoliberals have Mises and Hayek while left-neoliberals have Popper and Polanyi, explaining why Charles Koch and George Soros have such strikingly parallel interest in dead Viennese philosophers.
Read the whole thing. I won’t add much commentary, as this is mostly descriptive; I’ll follow up with the more normative analysis next week:
If the “neoliberal era” saw consistent increases in regulation and social spending, what made it neoliberal in the first place? And what distinguishes neoliberalism from liberalism per se? This is my attempt at an answer.
To start with, plain old liberalism is a tradition in political philosophy based on tolerance, individual freedom and the rule of law. Classical liberalism is relatively laissez-faire and focused on “freedom from” the government, while modern liberalism has a “positive” conception of freedom that includes distributive justice.
Neoliberalism, on the other hand, is as much a sociological category as a philosophical one. In the U.S. context, the term is associated with Charles Peters’ 1983 essay, A Neoliberal’s Manifesto, which presents neoliberalism as the center-left mirror to neoconservatism; a corrective for liberals mugged by the realities of stagflation and excess unionism who nevertheless wished to retain their liberal ideals. Where a neoconservative embraced Reaganite tax cuts to spur growth, for example, a “neoliberal” like Gary Hart proposed issuing a special class of stock “for the explicit purpose of investment in new plants and equipment.” Rather than reject markets, Peters’ neoliberalism was emphatically pro-business, globalization and entrepreneurship, just within the context of technocratic policies for aligning markets to liberal ends. This went on to become the dominant force within the Democratic Party in the 1990s and beyond, from Bill Clinton’s “Empowerment Zones” to Cory Booker’s “Opportunity Zones, and as parodied by the Oddly Specific Kamala Harris Policy Generator.
The original meaning of neoliberalism is related to Peters’ but goes back to Walter Lippmann’s 1937 book, The Good Society. Lippmann was a modern liberal who was similarly “mugged” by the failures of New Deal-era central planning, leaving him indebted to the arguments against socialism popularized by Ludwig von Mises and F.A. Hayek. Yet Lippmann was far from a libertarian. In parallel with the Ordoliberal thinkers of post-war Germany, Lippmann believed in the need for a “new liberalism” that struck a balance between the excesses of both governments and markets.
The Walter Lippmann Colloquium was held in Paris in 1938 to work out what that could mean in practice, with Mises and Hayek in attendance alongside a slate of French and German economists. The term “neoliberalism” was coined at the meeting by German sociologist Alexander Rüstow to disambiguate their project from the laissez-faire liberalism of the 1800s. The Colloque Lippmann was a precursor to the Mont Pelerin Society meetings that kicked off a decade later, providing a transnational forum for neoliberal thinkers, historians and business leaders to discuss strategies for preserving open markets and societies amid the reconstruction of Europe and rise of international communism.
[…]
In the U.S., the transition to disembedded liberalism manifested domestically through the decline of large, membership-driven stakeholder organizations, from unions and churches to thick political parties. […] Most parliamentary democracies went through a similar transition and located their policy elites within professionalized civil services or political party organizations. The separations of power in the U.S. presidential system made sustaining a similar degree of technocratic “in-sourcing” considerably more difficult. U.S. state capacity thus reached its high watermark in the 1950s, when trust in government was high and the civil service still contained many talented and ambitious New Dealers. Overtime, however, the technocratic class came to be predominantly supplied by think tanks, law firms, universities and large foundations.
[…]
The neoliberal project reached its apotheosis with the Washington Consensus of the late 1990s, after the fall of the Soviet Union made the trend toward global market integration seem unstoppable. Neoliberal ideas were spread far and wide through foreign aid programs and networks of free market think tanks. With the EuroZone off the ground, policymakers even seriously debated the merits of a North American Union, while entire journals dedicated themselves to the study of “regulatory harmonization.”
[…]
Most popular histories of neoliberalism draw a straight line from the Mont Pelerin Society to Reagan and Thatcher. But as seen in its origins, neoliberalism has always had a left and right flank, and if anything began as a form of Third Way-ism most closely associated with center-left internationalists. Neoliberalism’s association with the small government right merely conflates the 1980s Anglo-American experience with a much broader phenomenon. Thus right-neoliberals have Mises and Hayek while left-neoliberals have Popper and Polanyi, explaining why Charles Koch and George Soros have such strikingly parallel interest in dead Viennese philosophers.
Far from being neoliberalism’s opposite, market-oriented social democracy is simply how neoliberalism manifested on the continent. The Ordoliberal influence on Germany’s model of a “social market economy” is a case in point. Progressive critiques of shareholder primacy and the like are thus often best understood in terms of an internecine dispute between the left and right flanks of a common neoliberal ideology, not as a rejection of neoliberalism per se. Klaus Schwab’s “stakeholder capitalism,” Elizabeth Warren's support for codetermination, and the EU’s tough antitrust stance all channel the early Ordoliberals, for example.
What unites left and right neoliberals is less a blind faith in “free market fundamentalism” than support for multilateral economic integration managed by transnational institutions and a professional class of technocrats. Think the World Economic Forum, IMF, WTO and OECD; Hillary Clinton’s backroom call for a “hemispheric global common market with open trade and open borders,” or Judy Shelton’s vision for a North American currency called the Amero.
Neoliberal institutions and ideas embody a project of global integration and governance that’s distinctly inimical to popular sovereignty. This contrasts with classical liberalism, which arose in parallel with the consolidation of the first modern nation-states and thus rooted political authority in the consent of a national political community. Nevertheless, in the aftermath of World War II, the fear that nationalism and popular democracy would invariably slide back into reaction or revolution was fairly understandable. With Europe in the process of rebuilding, an opportunity for greater transnational integration presented itself, supported by a series of domestic social compromises aimed at keeping liberal reformers in charge and the fringes at bay.
[…]
In his 1997 book, Has globalization gone too far?, the economist Dani Rodrik issued a rare dissent. As economic integration moved beyond tariff reductions and into the “hyper-globalization” phase of political integration, Rodrik warned that social disintegration and legitimacy crises would follow. And follow they did, from the fallout of the China Shock and global financial crisis, to the EuroZone crisis, Brexit, and rise of populism across the West.
Defenders of the neoliberal era will argue that there are discrete policy solutions for each of these crises — a bigger EITC, new job training programs, more funding for public health and education, looser monetary policy, etc. — but this misses the point. By decoupling patronage networks from a broad social base, the public has become increasingly disenfranchised, while politicians have lost the output legitimacy that comes from brokering deals on behalf of their constituents. The dominant “theory of change” within large think tanks, foundations and media organizations has thus shifted toward “narrative change” and Potemkin forms of grass-roots organizing, fulfilling Walter Lippmann’s vision of a democracy made safe from the demos. Elections now matter less for the orientation of public policy than the conventional wisdom of unelected policy wonks, suggesting that the crises common to our post-national constellation, even if fixable by enlightened reformers, will tend to reoccur.
Between the internet-enabled revolt of the public, the rise of the BRICs, and our increasingly “weaponized interdependence,” the neoliberal model is clearly hitting a wall. The question is what comes next.
But against the left-wing narrative, the main problem with the neoliberal era was not the market, the joint stock corporation, or even free trade. On the contrary, the original neoliberals favored a managerial, stakeholder-driven model of capitalism from the beginning. Likewise, neoliberalism’s primary legacy was not uniform deregulation and austerity but rather a shift toward supranational, elite-driven forms of technocracy and proceduralism.
Conversations on Illiberalism
When an essay collection not only includes populist case studies from around the world; but also titles like 'Carl Schmitt and Russian Conservatism,' 'Geopolitics and the Past,' or 'Alt-Right Agenda and Intellectual Genealogy,' you know it’s worth browsing through. Plus, it features many people I’ve interviewed myself, including Cas Mudde, Michael Zürn, and Ruth Wodak.
That said, and while I applaud and appreciate the efforts of the Illiberalism Studies Program, they would certainly benefit from a deeper understanding of liberal political philosophy. For example, Marlene Laruelle’s conceptual introduction to the research program leaves you hanging without any clarity on the term liberalism. Nevertheless, a great resource!
The Illiberalism Studies Program studies the different faces of illiberal politics and thought in today’s world, taking into account the diversity of their cultural context, their intellectual genealogy, the sociology of their popular support, and their implications on the global order. It
Promotes a multidisciplinary approach combining political science, sociology, political philosophy, cultural studies, critical geopolitics, and international relations,
Addresses questions related to democratic backlash, the spread of authoritarianism, post-liberalism, the far right, populism and nationalism,
Serves as a platform for debating contested concepts such as liberalism, illiberalism, and post-liberalism relationship.
The Illiberalism Studies Program is hosted at the Institute for European, Russian, and Eurasian Studies (IERES). IERES is part of The George Washington University’s Elliott School of International Affairs, one of the world’s leading schools of international affairs and the largest school of international affairs in the United States. Located in the heart of Washington, D.C., its mission is to educate the next generation of international leaders, conduct research that advances understanding of important global issues, and engage the policy community in the United States and around the world.
IERES has been ranked no. 5 worldwide in the category Best Regional Studies Center (University Affiliated) by the 2019 Global Go to Think Tank Index Report. The primary mission of IERES is to serve as a field-defining leader in scholarship, education, and advice for policymakers addressing relations between the United States, Europe, Russia, and Eurasia. The Institute’s hallmarks are combining academic rigor with policy engagement, promoting interdisciplinary perspectives, and recognizing that Europe, Russia, and Eurasia cannot be understood in isolation from each other or from larger global trends. IERES unites a vibrant, interdisciplinary community of scholars and scholar-practitioners, both faculty and visitors.
The distributional consequences of Bitcoin
The European Central Bank (ECB) published a paper on Bitcoin, and I genuinely can't tell if it's a joke, sheer insanity, or just blatant malice. Obviously, I hope it’s all fun and games, because no one (and I mean absolutely no one) could seriously put forward the argument they’re making: In essence, they blame Bitcoin’s early adopters for benefiting from its price increase (aka NGU). Okay, sure. These folks work (and have always worked) for a quasi-socialist institution that sets the market rate for money in a monopolistic way (which is basically what a central bank does). But c’mon—they should have at least some basic understanding of capital allocation and markets, right?
Here are two of my favorite passages from the article:
The new Lamborghini, Rolex, villa, and equity portfolios by early Bitcoin investors do not stem from an increase in the economy’s production potential; rather, they are financed by diminishing consumption and wealth of those who initially do not hold Bitcoin.
Big words from people who’ve never worked a single minute in the productive sectors of the economy and have instead been freeloading off taxpayer money LOL
In any case current nonholders should realise that they have compelling reasons to oppose Bitcoin and advocate for legislation against it, aiming to prevent Bitcoin prices from rising or to see Bitcoin disappear altogether. Latecomers and non-holders and their political representatives should emphasize that the idea of Bitcoin as an investment relies on redistribution at their expense.
Bruv, these guys are some of the most sour nocoiners I’ve seen in a long while. HFSP!
BTW, I took the liberty to rephrase a of this a lil bit :P
In any case, current taxpayers should realise that they have compelling reasons to oppose the ECB and advocate for legislation against it, aiming to prevent fiat money from depleting or to see their savings disappear altogether. Taxpayers and their political representatives should emphasize that the idea of fiat money and the very existence of central bank bureaucrats rely on redistribution (see Cantillon Effect) at their expense.
Abstract
The original promise of Nakamoto (2008) to provide the world with a better global means of payment has not materialized. Instead, the focus has increasingly shifted to Bitcoin as an investment asset promising high capital gains. Promoters of this investment vision put little effort relating Bitcoin to an economic function which would justify its valuation. While most economists argue that the Bitcoin boom is a speculative bubble that will eventually burst, we analyse in this paper the impact of a Bitcoin-positive scenario in which its price continues to rise in the foreseeable future. What sounds intuitively promising or at least not harmful is problematic: Since Bitcoin does not increase the productive potential of the economy, the consequences of the assumed continued increase in value are essentially redistributive, i.e. the wealth effects on consumption of early Bitcoin holders can only come at the expense of consumption of the rest of society. If the price of Bitcoin rises for good, the existence of Bitcoin impoverishes both non-holders and latecomers. While previous discussions on the redistributive effects of Bitcoin assumed that badly timed trading was a necessary condition for losses, this paper shows that neither poor timing of trades nor holding Bitcoin at all are necessary for impoverishment under a Bitcoin-positive scenario.
These iconic foods aren’t as old as you think
With the recent publication of Alberto Grandi’s excellent ‘La cucina italiana non esiste’ (Italian Cuisine Does Not Exist), I’ve (once again!) had some interesting conversations about the mythology of food nationalism (s/o to Alessandro and Verena). As we all know, there’s only one thing worse than traditionalists: false traditionalists!
Of course, long-time readers of this newsletter will remember the article that sparked it all. Now, more data points are coming in. Be sure to pick up Grandi’s book—the German version has just been published!
In which century was ciabatta bread invented? And how old is the chocolate chip cookie? If you don’t know the answers to these questions, don’t be surprised if your guesses are way off. These are among some of the foods that most people tend to believe are older than they actually are: ciabatta was invented in the same year as Diet Coke, and the chocolate chip cookie is just four years older than Joe Biden.
[…]
Tiramisu (1972)
As often is the case with modern recipes, the true origin of tiramisu is hotly debated, but what’s certain is that it’s a recent invention. The strongest claim comes from a restaurant called Le Beccherie in Treviso, in the Veneto region of Italy. In 1972 it was added to the menu as “Tiramesù,” a contraction of a phrase meaning “pick me up” in the local dialect – though the restaurant claims it dates back to 1955, when the then-owner, Alba Campeol, was pregnant and ate zabaglione and coffee for energy at breakfast. She then worked with her chef, Roberto Linguanotto, to concoct a similar tasting dessert.
“Other sources suggest that it appeared in the Udine area in the 1950s, and that’s where Italy officially recognizes it to be from, as a ‘traditional agricultural food product,’” says food historian Sue Bailey. The recognition – in 2017 from the Italian Ministry of Agriculture – has sparked a quarrel between Veneto and its neighbor Friuli Venezia-Giulia, where Udine is located.
Undoubtedly, however, the dish that’s popular to this day is a version of the one from Le Beccherie.
[…]
Chicken tikka masala (1970s)
Widely considered Britain’s national dish, this one was also born in a restaurant. Or at least, we think it was: Ali Ahmed Aslam maintained that he invented the dish in his Glasgow restaurant, Shish Mahal. His apparent lightbulb moment was to take chicken tikka, an Indian dish of chicken marinated in yogurt and spices, and add a tomato-cream sauce to it, in response to a customer complaining about the meat being dry.
“Other people say that he wasn’t really the inventor and that it is a modified version of another Indian dish, butter chicken, and that he was just changing things around,” says Bailey.
In 2009, British politician Mohammed Sarwar tabled a motion in parliament to recognize the dish as a Glaswegian delicacy, and the UK’s late foreign secretary Robin Cook called it a “true British national dish.” Aslam died in 2022, and whatever the dish’s roots, he helped to make it popular.
[…]
Carbonara (1944)
One of the most famous Italian pasta dishes is also – as you’ll have guessed by now – the subject of debate over its origins. One credible explanation is that a chef from Bologna, Renato Gualandi, invented the dish at the end of World War II, using ingredients brought into Italy by the American soldiers who had just liberated the country.
In particular, he used bacon and powdered eggs, which might have come from military rations, and was possibly building upon pasta alla gricia, a similar dish, minus the egg, which is believed to be centuries old. Gualandi then became the chef for the Allied troops in Rome, which would explain the city’s strong connection with carbonara.
As is common for many Italian recipes, carbonara (meaning “coal burner” in Italian, perhaps from the original method of cooking) is also the subject of endless controversy about its ingredients. Most Italian chefs will say that only four are allowed, apart from salt and pepper: pasta, eggs, pecorino cheese and guanciale, a fatty pork cut which is similar to bacon. However, carbonara exists in endless variations and is also commonly made using parmigiano, pancetta, bacon, cream, butter and even garlic.
Peace,
SG