Assassinations and political processes – a libertarian perspective
Dr Alexander Moseley.

The sad news of Benizir Bhutto’s death (27th December 2007) must, while we face the horrors of the consequences of political violence, also give us pause for reflection on the ethical and political state of affairs and why people turn to violence.

Reflection can begin with a key libertarian principle: in no manner or form can the killing of another be justified, unless it is in self-defence.

It is on these latter grounds that wars and violence against others are justified – that they are in fact actions of self-defence. By tapping into such a powerful principle, the perpetuators of assassinations and political violence believe that they are defending their values either their personal values or those of their community, which they believe are threatened by their targets: otherwise why would anyone wish to kill another? The problem of course is that the cold-blooded murderer and the political assassin both believe that they are promoting their own values by killing another: sorting out the genuine act of self-defence from that of murder is muddied by present “discourse” concerning values: either all values are said to be equal, or (and this is the more traditional view that has haunted much history) only those of a particular system such as the West (or indeed those of Islam) are said to be valid and hence all other value systems must acquiesce and surrender. Libertarianism rejects the dichotomy in favour of an individualist ethic that, however it is justified in the schemes of philosophers, emphasises the right for each individual to pursue life as he or she see fit. No other has a right to aggress against his life, to defraud him, to steal from him, to enslave or to kill him.

Each life is sacred. But to live life implies acting. All action is oriented to bettering a situation as perceived by the agent: what raises our ethical thinking though are considerations on how universal such acts may be. Emphatically, the initiation of violence can never by universalised. There may be psychotic people (or bravadoes) who believe that a life of mutual violence and fear would be a fine state of affairs, but most of us do not: our ethic is to leave one another alone, to support each other as and when we can, to encourage our family and friends to develop and grow, to walk around in another’s shoes to see life from their perspective, while remaining true to ourselves and our own personal vision of life. To universalise destructionism is to call for death – the deaths of millions of people, and while this is not beyond the limits of some thinkers, they usually believe that they would be somehow not targeted or would be the grand winner in the demonic game. The sad hypocrisy quickly reveals itself in that the masters of suicide operations are rarely the ones who volunteer: instead, they choose the lonely, the embittered, the bright and emotionally insecure, the no-hopers who are brainwashed into believing in the rewards to be had after death.

Those who aggress against others renounce the moral code that should exist between all of us, and so they may justly be dealt with – the codes of punishment differ amongst libertarians with many emphasising the right of the victim (or her family) to impose the penalty that they wish. From the standpoint of the sanctity of life and its freedoms, all aggressive violence is immoral.

But could an assassination or a political coup be justifiable? Of course: in self-defence. Western “what-if” tales of time-travelling fantasy enjoy presenting the dilemma of assassinating Hitler or Stalin. In reflecting upon Bhutto’s assassination, no thought, no matter how seemingly distasteful should be left uncovered: was she and her party a threat to people’s liberties? Or was she the target of those who would be threatened by a liberalising programme? To murder her before the general election certainly smacks of anti-democratic forces at work, but is democracy what the Pakistanis want? Is there a complicated plot to undermine her party’s chances or was she seen by a radical opponent group as bringing more misery and corruption to her country? Pakistani politics are not easy to follow and have never been stable – the risk of a coup or an assassination is an unfortunate characteristic of the country. So we must all be aware of making glib assertions that “this was an attack on democracy and peace.” It depends whether Bhutto would have been democratic (likely) and whether her party in power would bring peace and prosperity (not so likely).

There are those who do not see themselves as murderers and yet seek to secure power over their fellow men and women; they wish to impose their own vision of life and the future upon the rest of their countrymen, often regardless whether their countrymen agree or not. These are politicians. A politician is one who seeks to use power: that is what the political game entails. A few politicians do attempt to reduce the size of the tempting framework but most do not. Accordingly, most politicians end up aggressing against people, threatening their ways of life or stealing from them to fund their own empowerment; they set the police on those who prefer to live life as they see fit, fining and punishing the recalcitrant and independently minded. Often this is done under the guise of some self-justifying political crusade – for democracy, for the public good, for progress, for the environment, even and ironically for peace itself.

Then there are those who react against such intrusions, interventions, and violations of peace and liberty. For those in power, such obstinate defenders become terrorists, dangerous citizens, or vermin to be eliminated by the powers of law and order.

Following an assassination of such a high-profile leader, the media noise generated can often become a cover for further entrenchment or even advancement of the politicians in power: they will act to “secure peace” to “remove the terrorists” and to “make their country safe for democracy.” Whatever the motivation of the individual or group behind the assassination, it surely plays into the hands of those who seek any excuse to intervene and to aggress further into peoples’ lives (and perhaps was meant to – political machinations rarely come to light during the noise of political and media reaction). And therein lies another rub: as politicians invade and violate further, the reaction becomes stronger, promoting a new wave of intervention – which in turn raises power’s stakes even more, attracting others who wish to impose their will upon their fellowmen and women.

Bhutto was a moderniser – and such politicians usually wish to play dangerously with peoples lives, particularly in culturally disparate countries. They wish to bring their fellow citizens “forward” into the twenty-first century, to raise their living standards and to reduce or eliminate poverty; such seemingly praiseworthy goals are however usually connected to altering the culture of the country “for the better”, removing “prejudices” and “backwardness”. Such is the usual political hype of course. Now if such a politician wishes to lead by example only, then he or she may educate others passively or teach those willing to listen. But when the moderniser tries to work the future and progress through state intervention and power, he or she is acting to use the people as a means to an end.

Libertarianism (or the tradition of classical liberalism) reminds us that people are not to be trusted with power. They will seek to use it for their own ends, even if they ostensible “act for the public good”: your vision of the public good will differ from mine, so any political interference is bound to create dissension and even conflict as you act to force me into your political vision. That does not immediately justify violence in return: power can also be used to liberate, to remove the trappings of intervention, corruption, and enslavement – but usually, such programmes can only be truly effective if the powers by which liberty is secured are simultaneously diminished – otherwise, the next emperor or president will merely take back all that he believes is his.

 Bhutto’s party, the Pakistan People’s Party, is nominally socialist. Socialists tend to seek power to effect a socialist nation – they usually want to nationalise industries, control banking, manipulate education to socialist ideals, all in the name of “empowering the people”, which is as far removed from giving them liberty as you can get before a one party totalitarian state. Socialism, nonetheless, has been the rallying call for many who have sought to overthrow despotism and feudal orders that restrain and restrict political, economic, legal, and cultural choice. The PPP presents itself as the people’s party, the party of the peasants and underclass – political power, we note is always in the hands of the majority, so it is not surprising that those who seek power advertise themselves as “being for the people”. Of course they would. “I’m for me and my mates” would not get too many votes, except we have to recognise that that former is the front for the latter.

Socialism offers an attraction to the impoverished masses – it offers hope, prosperity, and freedom, and insofar as socialist parties do release people from bondage and dismantle military or totalitarian dictatorships in favour of a balance of powers and accountable government, then we may agree that they can offer a force for the good. The good is however not exclusive to socialism, it is the philosophy of classical liberalism. But if a socialist party is the vehicle to dismantle an illiberal state it can be supported; however, the attraction to socialism proper is misplaced as a review of any socialist party in power soon elucidates: the people gain certain proper freedoms only to lose them to the state. Their bondage to the feudal lord is removed but the state becomes their new yoke.
In the confusion (explicitly fomented at times) surrounding this assassination, freedom is often first forgotten. Socialist supporters may rally around truly reorganising their country “to remove the causes of terrorism” (and thereby promote greater backlashes) while the military supporters may also wish to secure greater hold on their country as they may claim with Mussolini that democracy only leads to division and violence (and thereby cause further dissent amongst the educated middle classes). Internationalists (and American neo-conservatives) will want to intervene to secure democracy and social democracy for the Pakistani people (and thereby annoy probably most Pakistanis who will soon feel, like the Iraqis so obviously do according to polls, that they have become a pawn in someone else’s game).

But it is also the nature of confusion that a one-size fits all policy will create more bloodshed. Freedom can only come within a country, at its own pace, and through its own understanding. Bhutto no doubt was seen by conservative elements as a cosmopolitan moderniser who would upset too many traditions too soon; she was obviously a threat to the military presidency’s power; her policies would have disrupted the lives of many. It is too easy for those of us in the West to lament the attack on democracy – Pakistan does not have a democratic tradition; Bhutto knew this and wanted to encourage her country to become more democratic – but in doing so, she played a very dangerous, sadly in this case, a deadly game.

Whatever the motives behind her assassination, the killing also reminds aspirants to power the nature of the game: some will rise up and wish to put themselves up for martyrdom; some will quietly step away from the horror. But freedom will not be secured so long as the Pakistani government retains such a powerful grip on its nation – power corrupts and its attractive to the corrupt.

What can we in the West do? Condemn the murder indeed, whatever our religious or secular principles, murder and violence are anathema to civil life. But then look closely at who is (really) involved; read carefully the reports of those who have a better grasp of local political conditions and machinations than those who do not (cf. Jason Burke’s Road to Kandahar and his Al-Qaeda); encourage our friends and those we debate with or have an influence on to think about the principle of leaving others to their own affairs - it is incumbent on the Pakistani people to define their polity, not us. Nonetheless, we should also condemn any western or international financial support of the Pakistani government: our governments should stop subsidizing projects. Subsidising corruption and militancy never did anyone any good. Humanitarian aid (or any educational programmes) should be voluntaristic and be controlled by private charities; there are some agencies working wonders there (cf. recent National Geographic article on Pakistan). A libertarian would not condone boycotting Pakistani goods, for that only undermines the people’s ability to enrich themselves and defeats the ethos of encouraging (proper, unadulterated) free trade; our politicians should not support one faction over another – foreign interference is rarely liked in any country and often presents such backlashes as to be thoroughly counterproductive; and I would hope that our governments do not interfere covertly cf. Dirty Wars, by**** ).

We can only hope that Bhutto’s death acts as a symbol of why peace and freedom and not power and violence should be our guiding principles.

Copyright, Dr Alexander Moseley