Antony Davies and James R. Harrigan look at the supposed conflict between sharing, caring socialism and raw, heartless capitalism in the context of the American political theatre:
These terms were once very clearly defined. Socialism is state control of the means of production. The intent is that these means are to be used for the public good. By contrast, capitalism is simply private ownership of the means of production. The intent is that these means are to be used to advance the interests of those who own them, which will in turn create conditions of general prosperity that can be enjoyed by all.
When polled, Americans express relatively well-defined views on both. And while nowhere near a majority of the American electorate favors a completely socialist system, a recent Gallup poll indicates that more than four in ten Americans think “some form of socialism” is a good thing. But what is “some form of socialism?” A society is either socialist or it isn’t. The state either owns the means of production or it doesn’t. There is no middle ground. Even our openly socialist politicians rarely advocate anything near as drastic as government control of the means of production.
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And just as transferism is not actually socialism, the system against which transferists rail isn’t capitalism, either. When they think of “capitalism,” transferists imagine a monied class that defrauds customers, pollutes the environment, and maintains monopoly power, all because the monied class is in bed with government. But capitalism is simply the private ownership of the means of production. What people are actually describing is something more appropriately called “cronyism,” which can manifest in a socialist system as easily as in a capitalist one. Cronyism isn’t a byproduct of the economic system at all; it is a byproduct of politics.
For current examples, one need look no further than North Korea, Cuba, and Venezuela. Socialists say these aren’t examples of “real socialism,” and they’re not. There was a time when these countries were indeed socialist, just as there was a time when the United States was capitalist. But cronyism has overtaken these countries’ economic systems, just as it did in humanity’s grandest socialist experiment: the Soviet Union. Life was simply different for inner-party members than it was for workers. This is the real danger that all countries face, regardless of the animating principles of their economic and political structures.
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We need to answer the core question: how much transferism do we want?
In order to figure this out, we need to come to terms with the fact that any transfer is a confiscation of wealth from the people who created it. That confiscation will decrease wealth creation in the long term by decreasing an important incentive to take the risks necessary for creating wealth. Second, we have to recognize that transferism is addictive. No matter how much we transfer, people will always want more. The United States’ $23 trillion debt, the largest debt the world has ever seen, has come about because of American voters’ voracious appetite for transfers combined with politicians’ obvious incentive to provide them.
The solution politicians have found is to pass off the cost of the transfers to taxpayers who haven’t yet been born by borrowing the money, thereby leaving to the next generation the problem of repaying the debt or enduring unending interest payments. It’s a house of cards to be sure, but from their perspective, it will be someone else’s house of cards.
In the end, we have polluted our political discourse with two words that no longer have much meaning: socialism and capitalism. In the process, we don’t call the animating principle of modern American politics what it actually is: transferism. The only winners have been the politicians who manage to gather votes by keeping the electorate in a near-constant state of friction. And they keep winning if people keep thinking in categories that ceased to have any real meaning years ago.
