Tech Central Station has an article this morning by a certain Max Borders on whether it is possible to be a libertarian on domestic issues and a “neo-conservative” (his term) on foreign policy. In short: can a libertarian be a hawk? Borders answers in the affirmative:
The libertarian hawk takes her cues from Hobbes, not Locke, as the spaces mostly untouched by globalization are, in her view, like a state-of-nature. She sees threats that organize themselves in the shadows beyond civilization; operating, no less, in an age of deadly weapons proliferation. She fears the world’s great, but nimble powers coalescing into a slothful and ineffectual global body — where the toughest decisions of life and limb must be made in committee. She understands that freedom does not drop like manna from heaven, but is earned drop-for-drop and coin-for-coin by the sacrifices of blood and treasure.
In other words, since great swaths of the world do not recognize Western ideas about the rule of law and individual rights, they provide fertile grounds for threats to the civilized world to metastasize. This has a certain plausibility; since there is no overarching authority under which the entire world stands, disputes will inevitably be resolved in a fashion much more rough-and-ready than what we would expect in a court of law.
However, Borders goes badly astray in the next two paragraphs:
And this is the crux of the libertarian hawk’s position: “rights” as such, are not some Cartesian substance that animates the body in the manner of a soul. Rights are a human construct, just like money. The more we believe in them, the better they work. But there are situations in which the currency becomes, uh, devalued. Better said: there are limits to those on whom we can ascribe rights. (emphasis mine)
We get rights by virtue of some sort of social contract, not from our Creator. In this way, social contract theory splits the difference in many respects between libertarianism and conservatism. The social contract is an idea that people would rationally choose certain constraints on their behavior, constraints which culminate in certain reciprocal rules under which to live. I won’t harm you if you won’t harm me. We benefit through cooperation. And so forth. Those who would choose the rules enjoy the full benefits they confer.
It’s hard to see this as anything but a license to commit virtually any crime we like against those who fall outside of our “social contract.” Those who haven’t chosen to live under our rules can’t expect to be ascribed rights. What is left unsaid, but would be interesting to know, is exactly who falls outside our sphere of moral concern according to this theory? Terrorists? Foreign heads of state? Civilians in states that sponsor terrorism or pursue weapons of mass destruction? All those who exist “in the shadows beyond civilization”? Does this theory recognize any limits on what we can do to them?
What’s not hard to see is how such a theory could be used to deny rights to non-white races, mental “defectives,” and any other inconvenient persons who get in the way of our goals. Why assume that only foreigners will be presumed to lie outside the bounds of the social contract? Who decides who’s “in” and who’s “out”?
Borders doesn’t even address one of the chief libertarian arguments against foreign intervention, namely that it will inevitably result in the increased power, prestige, and influence of the State. Libertarian hawks want an all-powerful State that can preemptively crush its enemies abroad but will leave us in peace and freedom at home. The idea that foreign policy and domestic liberty can exist in hermetically sealed compartments seems willfully naïve given historical precedent.