"In the end, science offers us the only way out of politics. And if we allow science to become politicized, then we are lost. We will enter the Internet version of the dark ages, an era of shifting fears and wild prejudices, transmitted to people who don't know any better."--Michael Crichton
It all started with the cavemen.
Wait, let me back up: it all began with men.
From the very beginning, we've been runners. Those biologists and anthropologists who don't argue that we're aquatic apes will tell you that we're running apes. It's unlikely that anyone had to invent running; the brisk joggers were simply weeded out. This much, at least, is genetic. Nature, not nurture.
The running subsided somewhat with the discovery of shelter, also unlikely to have been invented (hell, maybe shelter even came first). Our ancestors found holes in the ground, dirt-eroded tree root structures, crude canopies, and occasionally even caves, and set up base camp for the next few years -- make that 200,000 years, for those families lucky enough to find caves. There, our ancestors developed a taste for the sedentary life. Sure, they still hunted and gathered, but they left the wandering to the nomads.
That's where evolution and circumstance end and invention begins. That's where the most significant changes to the human condition stopped being chromosomal and started being societal, occurring inside a generation at a time. Someone came up with the sharpened rock, music, money, campfires, the scorch-tipped wooden spear, the arrow, the plow, language, storytelling, jokes, and religion.
Someone also invented not killing, and not injuring, and not stealing. Or someones, rather; it didn't happen quite how the libertarians like to imagine. We didn't draw up agreements not to kill each other; even something that seemingly basic is still having the kinks worked out. Slavery was still practiced explicitly in Niger in 2003. For much of history, "no killing" enjoyed unilateral enforcement; that is, no one had to bother inventing the idea of "don't kill me." That idea occurs naturally to each of us. The union of "don't kill me" and "I won't kill you" has been almost geologically slow going. In fact, we can still witness the evolution of this seemingly commonsense tit-for-tat concept today in philosophy lecture halls, on the morning news of the world, and on C-SPAN. People still do not get it.
Every few centuries, someone makes an improvement. But as philosophy and its subset political theory are neither exact sciences nor formal systems, the best one can do is type up a treatise, get it published, and leave the rest to fate.
In this way, every improvement to the original invention of rights has not been a start from scratch, as is frequently the explanation. Rather, each spasm in the human condition has been an upgrade to the configuration of rights. It's all open source. Wiki-rights. We've come a long way from the early "Usenet" world of warring city states and Hobbesian pharaohs. Hammurabi's code, Greece's democracy, Plato's Republic , the Magna Carta, Locke's Second Treatise, the US Constitution, even Marx's Communist Manifesto -- each with varying success and arguable merit, some mere flights of fancy, others the very stuff of the global polity.
The greatest conceit, to me, is the belief that nothing will come next. Humans have a need to be part of a climax, of the End of Days, the conclusion of civilization. Maybe to give their own lives closure, maybe to witness firsthand what it is that gives humanity its purpose, but whatever the case, people want to believe there's nothing new under the sun and everything worth saying or doing or making has been all of those things and too often. Nobody wants to be obsolete, so here's to hoping nothing gets better.
This, of course, goes beyond cynicism and into the realm of willful ignorance. We'll get better. When this is said about science, technology, medicine, wealth, economics, and the human standard of living, we accept it as obvious to the point of redundancy.
And yet, for some reason, when we broaden the scope of our definition to include merely one more facet of the human condition (indeed, a vital facet if we are to assess the whole of human experience), argument and denial endure. The facet of the human condition to which I refer -- freedom -- depends just as much on the ingenuity, innovation, and capacity for reason of our brightest minds as all the other facets mentioned above. Freedom, just like the other facets, has an intimate relationship with both science and philosophy. The collection of inventions called human rights have not been fine-tuned quite to perfection, just as other sciences have not been. We still have kinks to work out, not only in its execution but in its very conceptualization. Of all people, anarchists and libertarians should recognize this.
Humankind's demand for freedom only becomes stronger the greater our potential for happiness. Every innovation that adds a day to our life expectancy, makes us safer, less likely to suffer, or improves our strength, stamina, or health, gives us a greater incentive to refuse the state's services. Any creation that subtracts a minute from the labor necessary to survive, or cuts the daily commute, or other wastes of time, ups the stakes. Any invention that provides me with something else to do with my time increases the value of a day of my life , just as surely as an increase in the supply of alternatives for how to spend a dollar increases the value of that dollar.
Relative to its position 1000 years ago, the state has almost no power. It's grown, to be sure. It has developed new technology, like the rest of us have. It can do things it couldn't do before. But I ask: what would the state need, today, to carry out what it has done in the past? What state is currently capable of conquering the entire known civilized world, like Macedon did (under Alexander) and Rome did (it's important to "curve for inflation" by making a relative comparison rather than speaking in absolute terms on matters of government vs. humanity; obviously, for example, modern states can kill MORE people now, but even 60 years ago, the Nazis couldn't even accomplish something as historically routine as genocide, while they still managed to kill 12 million people, 6 million of them Jews, in the Holocaust)? What would the state need in order to tie people to their land and have them working as serfs? Will the state ever have the control it once had over the mass media? International trade? Domestic affairs? Sex? Religion? The Taliban wasn't a sign of things to come, it was a spasm of nostalgia.
And what of tomorrow? We're at the cusp of the information age, already having experienced unprecedented accessibility of knowledge. We have the genome cornered; it must soon come out with its hands up. On the brink of nanotech, we have nowhere to go but forward into immortality.
And man's liberty index will react to these developments as it always has: it will rocket into the sky, ever upward, on its current path, its steadiness broken only by an occasional acceleration. We'll continue to get older, healthier, wealthier, wiser, stronger, faster, and prettier. With it, we'll only get more stubborn with our rights and more precise in our demands.
Let me finish where we started, with cavemen. All of humanity descends from a single ancestor -- called Eve by geneticists -- who lived in Africa 2 million years ago. Oh, there were other hominids all across the globe, to be sure. Our ancestors merely spread rapidly over the planet and "displaced" them, with virtually no intermarriage. Human history, you see, began with a global, and 100% successful, genocide. And all of us are descended from the perpetrators. Violence, it would seem, was at one time the rule rather than the exception. Aggression, the spirit of statism, in those days included all of us. I think that fact best illustrates how far we've come.
What will our descendants say about us?