By Kevin D. Williamson
Thursday, September 14, 2017
It’s the little things.
The response to our back-to-back hurricanes — from both
the public sector and from civil society — shows that the American people and
their institutions have made substantial improvements in their ability to
endure national crises since the two hallmark catastrophes of the George W.
Bush era: the 9/11 attacks and Hurricane Katrina.
Considering these improvements, Richard Fausset of the New York Times identifies a heroes’
gallery of little deliverances: We’ve improved our building codes and
construction practices; we have smartphones that make distributing and
consuming critical data considerably easier than it was during 9/11 and
Katrina, both of which happened in the pre-iPhone era; federal, state, and
local governments have streamlined their protocols for sharing information and
coordinating relief efforts; we have better weather forecasts than we did even
a few years ago; FEMA has learned how to deputize and empower the populace:
“They’re the real emergency medical workers,” former FEMA boss Richard Serino
tells the Times.
That’s what real progress looks like: There was no great
moral crusade, no dramatic moment of national unity, no stern man on a white
horse riding in to set things straight. Hospitals learned to put their
generators up off the ground to protect them from floodwaters and put in better
flood-control doors. We’ve learned to build a little better each year. FEMA has
begun to figure out that its headquarters may be in Washington but its business
is everywhere in the country, subject to events. The nice people in Cupertino
built a phone that could do a lot of different things, and then they made it a
little better each year — and their competitors kept at their heels.
That’s what a healthy society looks like.
Progressives and libertarians spend a great deal of time
arguing about the problem of social
coordination. A typical lefty looks at the excellent responses in Houston
and Florida and says: “See? See? That’s what you get from having additional
federal resources and stricter regulation mandated by government!” (That is,
for the record, almost verbatim what one progressive correspondent wrote to me
after the storms.) The more libertarian-minded person might say: “Well, sure,
but how about that Cajun navy? How about those smartphone apps telling people
which retailers have gasoline and other supplies?”
The private sector — which includes profit-oriented
market operators, churches and other philanthropic organizations, civic
associations, and, not least, just ordinary people taking the initiative on
their own — undertakes social coordination at the granular level. One of the
implications of Say’s Law in economics — that we produce in order to consume —
is that we seek to make our own lives better by discovering ways to make other
people’s lives better. The most common way to do that is through market
exchange: The apple-farmer trades his apples for your oranges and somebody
else’s bacon and yet somebody else’s pediatric medical services or smartphone
apps. But we also act out of other motives which, if they are indeed truly
self-interested, are so in only a distant fashion. The Shriners and the Knights
of Columbus and the millions of Americans involved in volunteer work surely get
something out of it, but mostly what they get out of it is helping to create
the sort of society in which they’d prefer to live, one in which kindness and
public-spiritedness do not require accompanying political and economic theories
but simply are good per se.
The public sector, when it is functioning in the right
way, mostly performs social coordination on more general terms. It protects
property and keeps the civil peace, and it regulates some activities, economic
and noneconomic, through generally applicable laws and regulations. There is
always a tension between generality and specificity in regulatory affairs: We
want our regulations to be general because we want everybody to be treated the
same way under the law and because we want our legal regime to be transparent
and predictable. But it is rare that we can avoid getting into details: Sure,
we can say the minimum wage is $x per
hour, but who counts as an employee? Your babysitter? The guy who cuts your
grass? A private-equity investor who takes no wage at all and who may in fact
have a loss to show for all his labor if the deal turns sour? That’s relatively
simple. But a regulation demanding that buildings in hurricane-prone areas
should have high levels of endurance for wind and rain requires a whole beach’s
worth of granular material. A 40-story office tower isn’t a beachfront house
isn’t a factory isn’t a nuclear-weapons facility.
Conservatives prefer to sort that out with a particular
set of tools: federalism, localism, choice, competition, market-based
alternatives, subsidiarity, experimentation, risk-mitigation, etc. Progressives
generally prefer consolidation and nationalization — if it’s good to have 50
states regulating flood control, it’s even better to have one superior federal
flood-control standard. The competition between those two approaches represents
a great deal of what we argue about when we argue about policy differences —
though in practice we spend a lot more time arguing that Hillary Rodham Clinton
is evil or that Paul Ryan wants to kill your grandmother than arguing about
policy differences. But when we get around to the policies, that’s what we
often end up talking about. Of course we should plan for disasters, economic
changes, the risk of climate change, etc. But: Who plans for whom?
Consider that the next time you hear a politician
complaining about “price gouging” during a crisis, a dopey complaint for which
both Left and Right have a weakness. Price gouging is treated as moral
abomination and, at times, as a legal offense. You know what price-gouging is? A
public service. Prices are how we ration scarce goods, and the pain associated
with paying unusually high prices is how we learn not to put off laying in
supplies until after the disaster has already happened. The guy with supplies
to sell has, either through luck or foresight, managed to put himself in
possession of what you need — and you did not. You don’t have to thank him, but
you do have to pay his price. The profit he makes encourages him to keep
planning for the future. If that hurts — it should. Maybe you’ll learn to do
better next time. But the alternative to paying the higher prices isn’t paying
a lower price — it is having no gasoline or water or toilet paper at all, at
any price. You can try to regulate away that reality; ask the Venezuelans how
that’s going for them.
Real material and social progress is rarely made up out
of glorious and dramatic crusades, though we are called to crusade from time to
time: Hitler ain’t gonna whup his self. Real progress is a hundred million
entrepreneurs, researchers, product-development guys, and their competitors all
scheming day and night to make your phone incrementally better, year in and
year out. It’s also university scholars doing basic science research and FEMA
desk-monkeys studying maps of the bayou network in Houston, staffers at
congressional subcommittees doing the necessary grunt-work of good government
that even C-SPAN won’t cover. The hard work of good government and good
citizenship is gloriously boring.
But there isn’t any substitute for it.
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