Stop calling Biden a “socialist.” It just makes you look silly.

He’s a Third-Way Neoliberal.

The first thing to explain is that “neoliberalism” is not a lefty political/economic ideology. It’s conservative (I’ll explain why it has the word “liberal” in it below). Reagan was the first neoliberal President, and he did the most to reshape American policy as neoliberalist. Clinton, Obama, HRC, and Biden are not and were not socialists. They are “third way neoliberals.”

Here’s why it’s called neoliberalism.

In the late 18th and early 19th century, a political ideology arose that is often called “liberalism.” [1] The New Dictionary of the History of Ideas defines “liberalism:”
“It is widely agreed that fundamental to liberalism is a concern to protect and promote individual liberty. This means that individuals can decide for themselves what to do or believe with respect to particular areas of human activity such as religion or economics. The contrast is with a society in which the society decides what the individual is to do or believe. In those areas of a society in which individual liberty prevails, social outcomes will be the result of a myriad of individual decisions taken by individuals for themselves or in voluntary cooperation with some others.” [2]

It’s useful to distinguish between political and economic liberalism—a point that will take a while to explain.

It’s paradoxical, but important, to understand that all the major political parties and movements in the US endorse political liberalism, or claim to. The disagreement is how to honor individualism, but notice that, in the major policy disagreements, everyone argues from within a frame of promoting individual freedom (gun control is about the freedom to carry a gun or the freedom to speak freely without worrying about shot, the freedom to be LGBTQ+ or the freedom to condemn them).

In the nineteenth century, economic liberalism advocated no governmental intervention in the “free market,” saying that the “free market” would better determine prices, wages, and working conditions. In Britain, this led to the potato famine among other catastrophes. In the US, it led to a cycle of booms and busts, outrageous working conditions, and environmental degradation that tanked the economy (I have to meet a person who advocates this kind of liberalism who knows much of anything about the 19th century economic cycles, working conditions, or the dust bowl). Because liberalism was such a disaster—worldwide—as was shown in 1929, a lot of people started considering other options. There were, loosely, four options that countries chose.

In the early twentieth century, a lot of people argued that liberalism as a political philosophy could be separated from liberalism as an economic philosophy (in other words, economic and political liberalism aren’t necessarily connected). But many people argued (and still do) that the commitment to a political practice (authoritarianism, democracy, monarchy) can’t be separated from an economic practice (mercantilism, autarky, capitalism, and so on). Stalinists and fascists (who have a lot in common, rhetorically) endorsed that (false) notion that political and economic commitment are the same, and insis(ed)t that, if you choose this economic system, you are necessarily choosing that political system.[3] They were wrong, and they’re still wrong, but that’s a different post. [4]

In the 19th and early 20th century, there were a lot of kinds of socialism. That’s why Communist Manifesto spends about a third of the book arguing with other socialists about why they should be their kind of socialist. That’s also why various activists who were conservative in terms of things like sexuality but radical in terms of economic issues sometimes called themselves socialist (such as Dorothy Day), and were not endorsing Stalinism.

In the early twentieth century, a lot of people believed that “individuals can decide for themselves what to do or believe with respect to particular areas of human activity such as religion,” but the government can “intervene” in regard to issues like food safety, accuracy in advertising, fraud, consciously fatal work conditions, exploitative contracts, deliberate manipulations of the market, and so on.

In other countries, this was called democratic socialism, but FDR (if I have my history correct) called it liberalism. Supposedly, he thought that people would reject the “socialism” term, and his political agenda was liberal (but his economic one wasn’t). And he’s right. I can’t even begin to estimate the number of people who say, “SOCIALISM ALWAYS ENDS IN DISASTER” (they do like them some caps lock) when someone wants to reject economic “liberalism.” It simply isn’t true that rejecting economic liberalism ends in disaster, if people maintain political liberalism. On the contrary, if people try to maintain economic liberalism at the expense of political liberalism, disaster ensues.

A society with political, but not economic, liberalism is one that doesn’t require you to have particular religious, ideological, sexual, or even political ideologies, as long as it’s all consenting adults, and there’s no force involved. The basic premise of liberalism is that your right to swing your fist stops at my face, and so a society with political liberalism is always arguing about that point of contact.

Economic liberalism has a different problem. One of the problems is empirical. The contradiction at the heart of economic liberalism is that there is force involved—no market is free. The coercion might be the government coercing businesses into behaving certain ways, businesses coercing each other, businesses coercing employees, employees coercing business. Paradoxically, the only way to maintain the ability of the individual to decide for themselves (the core of liberalism) is if the government intervenes to ensure that the market doesn’t enable some individuals (or corporations) to engage in force.

Economic liberalism as a political program got hammered by the Depression and the needs of a war economy. Post-war, there were people who argued that we’d gone too far in the direction of government intervention in the market, and we needed to go back to economic liberalism. They’re called neoliberals, because it’s a new form of the classical liberalism of the 19th century. They argue that we should let the markets take care of almost everything. As I said, Reagan was a neoliberal.

Some people felt we went too far in the direction of neoliberalism, and, while we didn’t need the governmental intervention of LBJ’s Great Society, a market completely free of government control ground the faces of the poor, destroyed God’s creation, and landed us in unwise (and endless) wars (it’s important to understand how much of this political agenda is religious). The idea was that these goals could be achieved by the government working with the market to establish incentives. This kind of person is typically called a “Third Way Neoliberal.” They want to preserve as much freedom in the markets as is compatible with legitimate community ends. They support capitalism as the most desirable economic system.

Whether that’s possible is an interesting argument. Whether it leads to Stalin’s kind of socialism isn’t.[5] And that’s what Clinton, Obama, HRC, and Biden are and were. Third Way Neoliberals.






[1] There are never just two political ideologies at play in any given era, so people who think, “If you aren’t this, then you must that” are always reasoning fallaciously.
[2] Charvet, John. “Liberalism.” New Dictionary of the History of Ideas, edited by Maryanne Cline Horowitz, vol. 3, Charles Scribner’s Sons, 2005, pp. 1262-1269. Accessed 24 June 2020.
[3] Right now, we have this weird situation in which a lot of people who claim to be neoliberal in terms of economic agenda are arguing for fascism in the political agenda. David Neiwert has made that argument about Rush Limbaugh, for instance.
[4] If you want a really good book about the Nazi economy, and how it ended up being not what fascists supposedly want, Adam Tooze’s Wages of Destruction is deeply researched and elegantly argued.
[5] While some democracies have slid into authoritarianism, slowly voting in or allowing increasingly authoritarian policies to stand, they haven’t slowly moved into communism. Communism arises from people being in desperate situations, and there’s a violent revolution of some kind. As someone said, probably Orwell, you have to be in a desperate situation to be willing to give up ownership of your last cow.



Bad math, belief, and half Nazis

The above are two very popular tweets (as you can see from the likes), and they rely on a way of thinking about political choices that is often popular. The argument is that you shouldn’t vote for this person because s/he is still in a category of evil people.

You see it all over the political spectrum (we need to stop talking about either a binary or single-line continuum of political positions—it’s false and damaging, and it fuels demagoguery). In 2016, there were informational enclaves that said that people should vote against HRC because she was a socialist, fascist, neoliberal, and therefore no different from Stalin, Hitler, Thatcher.

It’s a way of arguing that eats its own premises, and yet it’s so often persuasive. For instance, the argument that you shouldn’t vote for Biden because he’s half the nazi that Trump is has the major premise that you should never choose the thing that is twice as good.

Of course you should choose the thing that is twice as good. You should buy the car that is twice as good, rent the apartment that is twice as good, take the job that is twice as good. When we’re deciding about a car, apartment, or job, we can do that math, but, when it comes to politics, suddenly people can’t see that half a fascist is twice as good as a full fascist, let alone whether Biden is half a fascist.

So, why do people who can take an imperfect apartment that is twice as good as their other option, when it comes to politics, reject taking an option that is twice as good as the other?

There are a lot of reasons. Here, I want to mention two. First, politics is tied up with identity in a way that getting an apartment usually isn’t (although, people I’ve known for whom their apartment is closely attached to their identity have the same bad math—an apartment twice as good as the other is just as bad as the other); second, people who reason deductively often have false narratives about the past, or don’t care about what has happened. A politics of purity is often connected to a belief in belief.

The first move in that argument is to treat everyone who disagrees with us as in the Other category. There are good arguments that Trump is fairly high on the fascism scale (although with some important caveats, particularly about individualism), but Biden is not a fascist. He’s a third-way neoliberal. But, really, when people are making this kind of argument—HRC is basically Stalin, Sanders is Castro, HRC is Trump—they aren’t putting the argument forward as some kind of invitation to a nuanced discussion about political ideologies. It’s a hyperbolic appeal to purity politics.

Like all hyperbole, the main function of the claim is that it is a performance of in-group fanatical commitment, a demonstration of loyalty on the part of the speaker. The point is to demonstrate that they think in terms of us or them, and they are purely opposed to them.

That seems like a responsible political posture because, in cultures of demagoguery, there are a lot of people (who are bad at math) who decide that being purely committed to the in-group is the right course of action, regardless of whether that has ever worked in the past. They believe that we can succeed if we purely commit to a pure commitment to a pure in-group set of pure policies. That way of thinking about politics—the way to win in politics is to refuse to compromise—is all over the political spectrum.

And, I just want to emphasize: the math is bad. A half-nazi is actually better than a full nazi. A leader who would have done half what Hitler did would have been better than Hitler. Unless you are thinking in terms of purity, and so you don’t actually care about how many people are killed, in which case you’ve fallen into what George Orwell, the democratic socialist, called the fallacy of saying that half a loaf is the same as nothing at all. If you’re hungry, half a loaf is still half a loaf.

A friend once compared it to the trolley problem, in which a person refuses to pull the lever that involves being a participant in an action they really dislike in order to prevent a much worse outcome. I’m not a big fan of the trolley problem as an actual test of ethical judgment, but I think the metaphor is good—it’s a question of whether a person who refused to act (pull a lever that would cause one person to die rather than five) feels that this failure to act is more ethical than acting. When I talk to people who are in this kind of ethical dilemma, it’s clear that they are balking at that moment of their grabbing the lever—they want the trolley to shift tracks; they don’t want Trump to get reelected; they just don’t want to pull the lever.

That was complicated, but all I’m saying is that it’s a question of whether people recognize sins of omission. They don’t object to Biden getting elected; they object to voting for him.

So, how has that worked out in the past? I can’t think of a time when refusing to vote because one candidate was half as bad as the other has worked to lead to a better political situation (but I’m open to persuasion on this), but I can think of a lot of times when it hasn’t. I’ll mention one. It happens to be a time that people could vote for half-nazis, and liberals tried to persuade voters to do exactly that.  

It’s important to remember that the Weimar Communists could have prevented Hitler from coming to power by being willing to form a coalition government, but they wouldn’t because, they said, every other political party (including the democratic socialists) were, basically, fascists.

I’m not saying that compromising principles is always a good choice; a lot of people made the mistake of thinking that they could work with Hitler, that they should stay in his administration (or on his military staff) so that they could try to control him or, at least, direct him toward better actions. They couldn’t. Within a couple of years of his being installed as Chancellor, all the people in his administration who were going to try to moderate him were either fired or radicalized. It took longer with the military, and in that case the people who tried to control him were fired, strategically complacent, or radicalized. But it was the same outcome. There was no working with Hitler—there was only working for him.

If we want to prevent another Hitler, then we have to vote against him.